The Apology: Nonsense (Part 1)

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There are some things that I never understood about life and they are mainly why somethings that happen are completely ridiculous. It’s not to say that I never did ridiculous things, sure I did like that time I slashed a person’s car tyre just because the driver was being rude towards some old people. I’m completely aware that it wasn’t the owner’s fault and however I try to justify my actions, I couldn’t do it. “Life is just like that,” I was told once and even though the person who that me those sentences could be an idiot at times, I couldn’t agree with him more.

The car owner did nothing wrong but he still suffered. It’s the same thing that’s happening to most of the people in the world. They are innocent and yet their suffer. They bow on their knees every day, praying to their omnibenevolent god but it seems that the suffering continues while those who are evil just have to wait for good to come. I would never understand why that’s the case but I do admire people’s courage and patient, most importantly their faith. Sure somethings works in mysterious ways but surely such deity doesn’t deserve worshipping? I guess I would never know.

Sometimes, now and then, the voices in my head would have a peaceful conversation with me that is when they don’t order me to go around killing people. And during our short but deep conversations, I ask them these questions about God and their answer is simple, “If there’s no God, who’s making sure all the evil people in the world is rolling in money and happiness?” and ironically, that convinced me that surely there’s God that’s no way near being omnibenevolent. It wasn’t a year later that I realised that I’m evil too but nothing good has ever happened to me. “You aren’t evil,” the voices in my head told me.

“You are innocent. The world made you this way. God made you this way,” they explained and I excepted it as a somewhat reasonable explanation. “God made you this way,” I thought to myself. That’s a sentence that people always use whenever they are questioned about something and while I find it a rather good answer to give to theists, it’s rather ridiculous. I talked about it to the voices in my head too saying, “Even if God didn’t make them that way, why should there be laws that prevent people to be who they really want?” and they replied, “Because religious people are easier to manipulate. It’s easier to feed them with fear, and when they are fearful, they would even vote for the devil disguised as God.

“Surely people aren’t that stupid,” some, I included would say but when it is really thought into, people are stupid, I included. We find small harmless things as threatening to the society, as something that would lead everyone to hell but we are blind when something huge like murder happens right in front of our eyes. It’s completely ridiculous, it’s not even funny.

(To be continued)

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The Apology : Regret

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Everyone has their own regrets, I included and as I said before, writing this is a form of me explaining my regrets in life. When I was younger, back when I was still innocent, I would always regret it when I hurt someone’s feelings both intentionally and unintentionally. However, there’s something that I don’t usually do, which is to apologise to them. It’s not because I’m too arrogant to acknowledge my mistake, but it’s because I’m someone who doesn’t believe in apologising for my mistakes. I have always believed that when you apologise and the person accepted your apology, you are forgiven and that’s the problem. I don’t want to be forgiven.

It’s actually a question that I ask myself all the time: ‘Who deserves to be forgiven?’. Surely, if I’m one day convicted of my murders, the society couldn’t possibly forgive me for all of my “unspeakable acts”. After all, it’s not one or two people that I murdered, it’s more than fifty, across different places in the country. If I’m diagnosed with mental illness, surely I automatically am “forgiven” because I didn’t have control over my own body when I was carrying all those despicable actions. Isn’t that hypocrisy? I’m still a murderer, am I? While the victims’ family and friends might not forgive me, I will still be happy because at least they know I’m taking responsibility for my actions which means that I regret killing their loved ones.

I never believed in death penalty simply because if I’m a judge I couldn’t bear the thought of sentencing someone innocent to death just because of a few “errors”. At least, if they were sent to prison, they might still be alive by the time they got out, but that still makes me guilty. I am someone who believes in redemption which is another reason why I don’t support the death penalty.

People always have regret, even if it’s little and sometimes, like me, they want to redeem themselves. Being dead would prevent them from doing unless there’s an afterlife where they would have a chance to somehow do good things. Actually, I don’t even believe there should be prisons because I always believe in rehabilitation which would help people become better “people” and do good for the society to redeem themselves of their mistakes.

“Nothing good can ever come from a murderer,” someone told me once and I completely disagree. Just a few months ago, just as I was stalking someone who has been annoying me for days, I found a lost and scared puppy who was in hunger. “Ignore it,” the voices in my head told me but of course I didn’t ignore it because how could I? It’s not the puppy’s fault that it’s abandoned, just like it’s not my fault if I murdered the person who I was stalking.

Seeing how sad and pitiful it looked, I went to the nearest store and bought some dog food. I poured it on the ground and it immediately jumped up and started eating. It followed me around and since I actually hate dogs, I picked it up and dropped it at an animal shelter. The people there thank me, even wanted to take a picture of me and hung it at a wall labelled ‘heroes’ but I rejected it, simply because I always like to remain hidden in my own small world.

As I was walking back to where I was from, I saw police cars everywhere. Someone just committed suicide from jumping off the building and it was the person that I stalked for days. From that day onwards, there was this big feeling of regret that was growing inside of me. If only I have stayed there, I might have stopped her from killing herself. If only I have known, I would have killed her instead because at least, it would stop people from saying mean things to her, such as saying how she killed herself because she’s not religious enough or because she didn’t believe in the word of God. Sometimes, I’m shocked to hear those words coming out of people’s mouth especially when we live in such a modern era.

That was why, a few weeks later, when I sensed that someone was about to kill himself, I stopped him by killing him first. “Thank you,” I heard him say to me as I laid him down on the floor carefully before running off into the darkness. I was sure that he regarded me as a hero who ended his sufferings and that made me feel good about myself. Sure, I killed someone but at least from now on, people would only talk nice things about him such as how good or kind he was to other people. That, however, didn’t remove the feeling of guilt and regret that I have, deep in the pit of my stomach. Therefore, I find something to blame it on and who else could I blame but the dog.

I walked angrily towards the animal shelter and retrieved the dog, saying that I wanted to adopt it after “feeling guilty of leaving it alone”. The next day, the dog belonged to me and I vowed that I would make sure that it is destined to a long and miserable life. I was about to break one of its legs when I stopped myself because I couldn’t look at it in its eyes. Usually, when I end someone’s life I make sure that they see that I’m their murderer but this time, I couldn’t do it. I dropped to the floor, crying for the first time since a long time and took the dog back to the shelter. I was near a train track when I heard a small kid running towards me, shouting, “My dog! My dog!”. Since there was nobody else there, I thought that the girl was lost or something and so I waited for her.

She ran towards me and I pushed her hard onto the train tracks and I could still hear her screaming in fear as an incoming train came closer. I hid in the woods with the dog of course as I watched her getting crushed to death. I made sure that the dog saw it too. It was trying to flee from me but of course, I didn’t let it. For the rest of its life, it would curse its own existence since it killed its owner.

Before that, I didn’t think that animals would feel regret too but after that incident, I found out that everything, animal included have their own regret. I kept the dog with me until the day I sold it to someone else. I didn’t torture it, of course, because it will suffer enough for the rest of its miserable life. It will regret being the cause of someone else’s death and me, I will always regret not killing it.

I could never forgive myself for that and the dog could never forgive itself for what it did too. Together, we will live with our regrets for the rest of our lives.

(To be continued)

 

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)

I Have Come To You

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“I have come to you,” I said to the person at the tree. The person was not paying attention by I didn’t mind it. After all, it took me more than a week to arrive but it wasn’t my fault. Every time I wanted to make a move, there’s always something that stopped me and every time it happens, I try to figure out what it was. I was sure the person at the tree was too tired to hear me explain any more about the thing that was always stopping me.

“You know,” I said to him. “Maybe you didn’t call out of me loud enough. Maybe I didn’t hear you call out for me because I was far away and you were merely whispering,” I said to the person who still remained quiet but he nodded his head, signalling that he was hearing what I was talking about. “Many people told me that I was never there when they called out to me. I found it weird because of I when I do arrive, they were never there and I don’t know where they live, what they look like,” I explaining to the nodding man who seemed as if he was about to go to sleep soon.

“Then they concluded that I will never come and that I don’t exist. Well, maybe I’m not real, but what is real?” I continued blabbering, not sure if the person is still hearing me. “Someone told me they died shortly after leaving before I could arrive. That’s a shame. If only they cried out louder and a little bit sincerer,” I explained. “I mean I gave them many things before even when they didn’t ask for it. Couldn’t they at least waited a little longer? I agree I told them they need to do many things in return but couldn’t they wait for another second just as a token of gratitude?” I ranted. “So,” I asked the man who was hanging from the tree, “What is it that you want?”

He never did answered me.

A Love Story (Part 7)

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I drove back to the hospital happily, knowing how proud Eleanor was of me. Remembering that I was supposed to be buying some food, I stopped at fast food restaurant before continuing my drive down the empty road, towards the crowded and congested hospital, as if everyone in town is suddenly sick or dying. As soon as I stepped out of the car, the smile on my face vanishes as I pulled on my mask. I walked slowly towards my sister’s ward, secretly hoping that she died but die she did not as I saw that she was very much still alive. While I was eating, the doctor informed me the bad news. “She’s getting better,” he said.

Whatever smile that was still on my face behind the face faded away as soon as I heard the news. I told my best friend that he’s free to leave anytime he wants but he refuses. “I don’t want to leave you alone at this hour,” he said to me. I knew that he was afraid that I was going to kill myself. I would have convinced him otherwise except he won’t believe me due to the fact that tried to kill myself once and failed spectacularly. “I will be fine,” I said repeatedly but he wasn’t buying any of that and I don’t blame him. After his parents died in a tragic accident, he had been alone and lonely for a while until we met each other at the local book club.

“My number one fear is losing,” he told me once and of course, at that time, I had no idea what it meant. However, the tragic incident that I witnessed made me understand the magnitude of his fear so, I gave up trying to make him leave. I was staring at the painting on the wall, admiring it when I heard a voice calling out my name. “Come here,” the voice whispered. I stood still because I know that it didn’t sound like Eleanor. I thought that it wouldn’t stop and that I was going crazy out off boredom but after a few seconds, it did. I felt as cold breeze caressing my body as the hairs on my body stood up. I turned to my left and jumped out of my chair, screaming.

“What’s wrong?” my best friend asked, running towards me. I couldn’t answer him as I pointed to the thing that was in front of me. “Shh,” it whispered. As it got closer and closer, I could feel its hands caressing my face before it ran down towards my neck and began to choke it. It tried to pull off but I couldn’t. Just as my best friend reached me, it disappeared and I was able to breathe again. “What’s wrong?” he asked in a concerned voice. “The…the…” I said, pointing to the wall in front of me where the thing stood. “There’s nothing there,” I was told. “Relax”

A nurse told me that I was imagining things and my best friend said that I was hallucinating because I was still traumatised by the recent events in my life. I was buying none of that. “There’s someone there!” I protested as my best friend drove me home, telling me that I ought to get some rest. After tucking me into bed like a small kid, he started to walk out. “Wait!” I shouted. “Stay here with me!” I demanded and he did. He took some pillows from my cupboard and lied on the ground. Just as I was about to close my eyes, I saw the thing in the hospital that tried to kill me standing at the end of the room. This time, it was smiling. “Nice to meet you again,” it said as dropped to the ground and crawled towards me.

I screamed as loud as I could but by that time, my friend was already dead asleep so he couldn’t hear anything. I desperately tried to move my hands, legs or any part of my body but nothing seems to be working. Out of desperation, I closed my eyes and call out for Eleanor to help me. “Help me, Eleanor!” I cried as I could feel the thing getting onto my bed. I opened my eyes and saw that the thing smiling ear to ear above me. “Eleanor is here,” it said, giggling. “I am Eleanor,”

The Fear (Short Story)

Hello, humans. Before the story starts, I would like to announce that after this post is published, you will only have 6 hours remaining to ask me questions for the second Q&A session through the comment section or by sending me a DM on twitter.

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Note: This is a fictional work

The more I thought about it, the more I started to regret my decision not to surrender myself to the police after accidentally killing the man who was bothering me for half an hour or so. It wasn’t my fault as I had no control over myself especially when I’m panicking. It started when he came close to me and “Good evening,” in a somewhat whispery tone, which sent goosebumps all over my body. “Hi,” I replied, trying not to sound irritated or scared. I had always hated it when I have to start a conversation, especially when it’s with strangers.

“Waiting for the bus?” he asked as if me waiting at the bus stop didn’t paint a clear image of what I was doing. “Yeah,” I said. “I’m too drunk to drive,” I replied, pointing at my car which I regretted immediately. “Where’s your house,” the person asked. “Some 10 kilometres from here,” I lied. “Do you know when’s the next bus coming?” he asked, as his hand reached for his pocket.

Questions flooded my mind, as I wondered what he was about to take out from his pocket. “It’s a gun! It’s a gun!” my mind screamed at me, telling me to run. “He will kill you and take your car, run now you stupid idiot,” my inner voice told me, begging me to just leave already. “Well, you know the public transport in this country is not reliable at all,” the man said, taking out a card from his pocket and say, “Here, take my card,” he told me.

“Thanks,” I said, not knowing how else to react. “Why don’t you come to my office, tomorrow?” he asked me. “It’s a public holiday right?” he asked to which I replied, “Yes, I’m free tomorrow,” which was the third mistake that I did that night. “So, what do you say?” he asked me again, trying to push me to answer his question. My heart started to race as fear of him killing me tomorrow races in my mind.

Since I couldn’t say no, I stood there as sweat ran down my scalp as if I was showering. Then, he came closer, as he reached for something under his jacket. “Run!” my inner voice told me and so I did. I ran into the woods as he followed, urging me not to run away. “I’m not gonna hurt you,” he said but I didn’t bother to listen. I was sure that I outran him, in fact, I was starting to feel confident that I would survive the night. That was when I tripped on something and fell.

“Let me help you get up,” the person said. Panicking, I took a large rock and smacked it towards his temple. I could hear his skull breaking as he fell to the ground, dead. And that was why I am now burying a dead body deep in the woods. I couldn’t go to the police because they would take me to prison where I would probably die of suffocation due to my claustrophobia. I am sure that sooner or later, the man’s spirit would soon come to haunt me but I could live with that because his spirit isn’t only that is haunting me. After all, this is not the first time I murdered someone.

Murder : A Short Story

Note: This is just the work of fiction. 

“Surely many had heard about the world murder but how many of you really knows what murder means? Generally, murder is regarded as the act of taking away someone else’s life without their will,” my English lecturer started talking as the class begins. Sometimes I wondered why anyone would bother to really know what a word means. “Yes, Alex, what’s your question?” my lecturer asked another student that was raising her hand. 

“Does that mean God is a murderer too?” she asked. The whole class started to burst into laughter as the lecturer gave her the ‘Are you for real’ look. As she was someone who would ask weird questions other wouldn’t, I already expected her to ask that question. “Why do you think so?” the lecturer asked. “Nobody wants to die, even when it’s natural death,” Alex replied and it was clear that the lecturer was annoyed. 

Everyone knew that our lecturer is a staunch Catholic so, questioning God would make her furious. “Don’t you want to be in heaven?” the lecturer asked back. “No,” Alex replied. The afternoon bell rang, indicating that the class was over. “Well what do you think?” she asked me after class. “Think about what?” I asked back. “Is god a murderer?” she said. “Who knows,” I answered as we entered the next class. 

In history class, we learned about the First World War which is allegedly the war to end all wars. Ironically, it directly lead to the events that would trigger the Second World War. “All those people,” Alex said. “They were murdered,” she continued. I paid little attention to what she was talking about as usual. “Some people just have another way of viewing the world,” I said to myself in an effort to stop myself from being annoyed. 

“Yes? Any questions, Alex?” The history asked, waking me up from my day dreaming although it wasn’t me who was summoned. “They are all murdered aren’t they?” she asked the lecturer who replied by nodding his head. “Did god murdered them?” she asked him. “No,” he said. “Because God isn’t real,” he continued. That was probably not the answer she was expecting for but at least she stopped asking anymore weird questions. 

Suddenly, she said, “In that case, say hi to whoever that is waiting for your at the other side,” and before anyone could see what was happening, she took out a gun and murdered the lecturer. I was sure that she went along and shot some other people because I heard a few more shots being fired. “Don’t worry about me,” she said to me. “When the police comes, I’ll just say ‘God murders people too’,” she said to me and walked out of the lecturer hall like nothing happened. That was the last time anyone saw her.