#FictionFriday

#FictionFriday: The shop.

The first thing she noticed was the sky, how it turned to a lovely hue of blue but gradually turned into dark grey. Slowly the clouds are congregating, as if they have a meeting to attend high up in the sky. The next come the pitter patter of rain hitting her wind breaker. Slowly she brought out her green umbrella. Standing motionlessly under the rain, she can hear all the droplets of water clearly, she can feel the wind blowing, and most of all she can feel the thunder brewing high above the sky waiting patiently to unleash its sound and light.

Slowly the lights began to flicker, illuminating what once was a crowded street but now empty due to the falling rain. She walked slowly, trying to enjoy the splashing of rain around her, the smell of rain if there is one, the flashes of thunder and the quiet street. The slow walk might have something to do with her anxiety over where she was supposed to be fifteen minutes ago.

There was a shop at the end of the road, and they had a Christmas tree set up, complete with twinkling lights that serves its purpose as fake snow. A Christmas tree on a July? The shopkeeper must have gone mad, she thought to herself. For what other reasons could there be for a shop to set a up a Christmas tree five months before the actual Christmas? And yet she can’t help herself from stopping in front of the shop and just stare at the twinkling lights. She pull out her left hand from under the umbrella and felt the rain had wet her hands. She hoped that the water might have turned into snow soon. A foolish wish, she knew.

The door to the shop was open, she was startled, she lost her balance a bit, she thought she was going to fell on her backside, but a pair of bony hands shoot out and pull her up straight in time.

“Oh, dear me. Did I startled you, young Lady?”

The owner of the bony hands was a lady with an all black clothes, from her immaculate top hat to her pointy boots are black. She cannot decipher how old the lady was. She seemed ancient, but young at the same time too, if she were to judge by the strength of the bony hands that pull her up straight.

“Oh not really, I was just lost in thoughts from staring at your Christmas tree. It’s gorgeous,” she manage to say, “but, why a Christmas tree? Christmas is still quite far away.”

“Oh dear, this is not a Christmas tree. Surely you can see this is not even a pine tree. This, my dear, is the tree of wishes. Each sparkling lights you see here represent people’s deepest wish. When someone wishes for something, strongly wished for something, sometimes, we are alerted of it and we try to locate that person and help them grant their wish,” the Lady was speaking in such a soothing tone to her ears, “I would love to chat with you but I am needed somewhere else. Have a good day, dear.”

She stood there, slowly shaking her head as she watched the Lady walked purposefully followed a black cat. Oh, surely whatever this shop is, the owner and whoever works there have gone mad. Tree of wishes? Whatever happened to this world?

With that thoughts in mind, she drags herself slowly trying to locate her destination. The rain grew harder and she doesn’t feel like walking anymore. She saw a bench, she didn’t care about the wetness of it, she was going to sit on it because she doesn’t feel like walking anymore, and so she sat down.

“I think I’m supposed to find you, clearly you’re the only person wandering around in this deserted street. Everyone else has gone inside a building, either to keep themselves warm or just to keep themselves dry until the rain stop. So, tell me dear, are you the one I’m looking for?”

She was close to screaming when she heard it. She thought a cat was saying those things to her. There was a cat in front of her, looking at her with tilted head. The cat has the shiniest black fur she had ever seen. Strangely the fur doesn’t seem to be wet. Thankfully, she realised that it wasn’t the cat that was talking to her, it was the Lady from the shop with the Christmas tree. She was not going to call that tree of wishes, she is not mad, yet.

“I’m sorry, what?” Her question came out like a squeaky mouse if ever a squeaky mouse can talk.

As the Lady took up the seat next to her, she said, “Well, I did tell you about how we go out and try to help people when they have wishes to be granted. We’re like a genie but without the hassle of living in a bottle and wait until some poor soul rub their grimy hands on the bottle. I was told to find a girl who would be wandering around the street, I was told she would joining us in training. Since there’s no one here except for the both of us, and Jimmy the Cat here, I assume you’re the one that I need to found.”

“Again, I’m sorry, what?”

“Oh for goodness sake, mate. I don’t get paid enough to go around and be inspirational and shit and whatever. Look, Are you or are you not Emily Henderson? And do you or do you not wish to join the Fidelia Greenwod Witchcraft?”

“Oh yes. To both questions, I mean.”

“Well, let’s get a move on then. We were waiting for you. I’m a witch but it doesn’t mean my clothes can’t get wet and honestly, the water from this bench is seeping up my knickers already.”

 

#FictionFriday

Twisted lies we tell ourselves.

A/n: Not posted on Friday, I know, but I swear it was written on Friday. So it’s still FictionFriday, right? Yeah, it is.


“Where is she?”

“She said she’s on her way to Nan’s place.”

“What? Why?”

“Because Dad is picking her up.”

“And how does that explains anything?”

“I don’t know, mate. I hung up the moment I realised I was not going to have a proper conversation with her. I haven’t had breakfast to deal with confusing conversation this morning.”


What I would give to have my Saturday just lounging around, but here I am waiting for my brother at the ER. He was complaining of chest pain, he fears he might be having a heart attack, which is completely bogus if you ask me but then again heart failure thing runs in the family so there might be some truth into it somewhere.

We were told by our eldest brother that our Mum was to come and meet my younger brother and I at the hospital. I honestly don’t know what to do in a hospital. I’m fairly healthy most of the time, ergo I really am a complete utter trash right now. I really need a proper adult in dealing with the administrative things.

“You know, I just don’t get it. I’m sure Sean said something about Mum coming here after her lunch was done. Why is she going to Nan’s place?”

“Honestly, it’s like you don’t know Mum.”

“I mean I get that that Dad picked her up and he might want to go to Nan’s place, but can’t she just tell Dad that I’m in the ER? I’m sure Dad didn’t know about me being in the ER.”

“I’m pretty sure she didn’t even bother telling Dad about it. Probably she just went sulking about, which is just completely idiotic because how the hell Dad would have known that you’re in the ER. I didn’t call him or anything, neither does Sean, I’m sure.”

“You know, it’s not like I need her here. You’re doing fine so far, it’s just that she promised she was going to come. She can’t just bail out like that, and we wouldn’t even know had you not called her just now.”

“Again, it’s like you don’t know Mum.”

“Are you pissed that you have to be here and taking care of me? I mean, you could be excused if Mum is here.”

“Surprisingly, as much as I’d rather be at home and sipping on tea, I don’t mind being here. It’s just that I’m miffed because she’s not committing to her commitment to us. She made the commitment to come here before Dad told her they were going to Nan’s place. She could have either told that you’re in the ER or just straight up told Dad she promised to come here. I mean, we all know Dad’s priorities in life are a bit messed up. Pretty sure he would still go to Nan’s place whether or not you’re in the ER.”

“Forget it, I’m probably discharged soon anyway.”

“I’m just up to meeting her when she’s back from Nan’s place. She’s always pissed every time she came back from Nan’s place. She always does, you know. And then she gon’ be telling me about she’s pissed that Dad ruined her plan to come here by bringing her to Nan’s place. Like I said, pretty sure she didn’t even tell Dad she promised to meet us here. So, technically she brought it on herself now that she’s stuck at Nan’s place.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Because she has crazy ass need to have constant drama in her life. She needs to have something and/or someone to blame for things that didn’t go right.”

“Gosh, that’s.. twisted of her.”

“I think it runs in the family. Have you seen how dramatic Sean was last week when he proposed Kim?”


“Hi Mr Chavis, so how are you feeling right now? Still experiencing chest pain?”

“No, I think it has lessen after that tablet you gave me, Doc.”

“Alright, I’m going to write you some prescriptions and then you’ll be discharged. Is this your brother? I need you to wait in the waiting room for the prescription and the discharged papers.”

“Yeah, sure, so what’s wrong with my brother?”

“Oh it’s his gastric acid. Mr Chavis here haven’t been having proper meal at proper times. Sometimes when your gastric acid escalates rapidly, you either throw it up or it suppress your chest causing some chest pain and trouble breathing. Nothing to serious, but he would need to pay attention on his meal and to take enough rest.”


“See what I mean with it runs in the family? Heart attack, my arse. It’s your damn gastric acid, son.”

#FictionFriday

#FictionFriday: Broken people and their lack of sleep.

The world is full of broken people. Take me, for example. I can’t remember when I last enjoyed my sleep. Wait, I think I can. Wait, on second thought I don’t remember. My memories are broken. Things I’ve remembered have been altered one too many times, from lies I told myself or from things I refuse to comprehend. Either way, we are all broken. Damaged. Beyond the point of repair.

It’s been days since I’ve enjoyed my sleep. Sleep is for the weak, I said. Sleep is a privilege I do not have. The alarm was blasting, actually I’m not sure, all sounds seem to magnify when you close your eyes. It’s the thing that people said, when one sense is off, the other magnifies its ability. I fumbled around with my left hand, trying to locate where my phone was, intent on turning off the alarm and to see how long had passed since I last snooze the alarm.

Fifteen minutes have passed. Seemed like an hour. I weight my option, do I just skip work altogether knowing that I wouldn’t have anything better to do anyway, or try as I might so as not to be late at work, pretend that life has not been altered and moved from its axis? Best to just get a shower first. Thinking with a clean hair and body, not to mention minty fresh breath, seems like a condition I would rather be in than bleary eyed with horrible bed hair, that I am right now.

I stood in front of the mirror, trying to convince myself I look clean enough for today. But, who am I kidding? My hair might be wet, my face may looked fresh, but that dead look in my eyes screams, “I NEED MORE SLEEP!” I shrugged to no one in particular, except at my own reflection. I didn’t think much about what I’m doing, it was until I finished dressing myself up that I realised that it seems to be that I am going to work today. Oh, well, sleep is for the weak anyway, or so I seem to think.


The world is full of people haunted by their past, present, and future. What am I haunted with? Truth. I am haunted by the truth lurking behind my youthful mistakes. Youth feels like eons ago, but in all honesty it was merely five months ago. The truth is that obnoxious kid on a Halloween that constantly knocks on your door screaming, “trick or treat,” even though you’ve clearly screamed back, “go away!”

I tossed and turned in my sleep, or lack thereof. I closed and I opened my eyes, sighing at my lack of sleep. I stumbled in the dark for a cup of tea, hoping it’ll calm whatever raging storm inside me, and leave my body to sleep. I go in and out of white noise playlist, thinking it’ll bring me sleep, just like what they said on those health magazines. I chastised myself for my lack of self control as I fumbled for my phones and go through the repetitive routine of reading whatever it was on the internet. It’s easier to think that someone else half across the world is having a much more shitty day than you are.

I tried to feel sorry, but honestly, who cares about other people? I certainly don’t. I just want to go to sleep. But, sleep won’t come. And so, I repeat the spell and try to convince myself that sleep is only for the weak.


The world is full with the likes of you and me. Those who wander day in and day out, thinking of ways to survive another day without an ounce of sleep in them. You would think that after 35 years lurking about I would have figured out at what point does my life went wrong and figured out the best way to fix it, but of course who has the time to dissect each and every youthful mistakes one has commit in their lifetime? I certainly don’t.

The tick tock of the clock is echoing through the hollow walls of my home. My home? My house? What’s the difference? I’ll be damned if I know. I think I ought to sleep now, but as per usual my eyes refuse to close, my mind refuse to stop producing chain of thoughts, and this is quite new but now I feel like my back is protesting against this old creaking bed. Hmm, maybe I should get a new bed? Oh, well there goes another thought to occupy my mind.


Jakarta, 2 June 2017

#FictionFriday

Plodding along like an old cow.

fiction-friday

 

“Do you think we will ever be senile?”

It was to be a question he forever dread to ask, but he will end up asking it anyway. At the other end of the long table, she only sips her wine feigning innocence as if she hadn’t even heard the question asked out loud in the quiet room, echoing even a single intake of breath.

He slowly cuts his medium rare steak, patiently waiting for the answer to his question. Eventually the silent was too loud, and yes, he is aware of the oxymoron in that phrase but after years of living in too much silence, anything can be too loud, even the silence itself. He sighed and asked, “Are we already senile? Is this what is to become of us?”

Slowly she sips her wine once more and sighed, “Well what do you expect? It’s not like we are here with much other purposes. If you think there might be some sort of divine intervention telling us of our purpose here, then I think this is as close as we are ever going to get to being senile.”

“I don’t quite picture myself as turning senile. Not in this lifetime, at least. Probably some other life? Do you ever wonder about that?” Why he asked so many questions every time he’s having steak for dinner is subject to discussion for another time. It just is. He ate steak and he will have questions. Questions will be asked but only a few of those are answered.

“I don’t quite fancy myself with questions and pondering around, I’d rather just plods along. I’m feeling generous today, so I will be asking you a question. Ever wondered that maybe all there is to us here on earth is just to plodding along with the likes of us?” A smile has graced her face, although it looked more like an evil smirk rather than a genuine sweet smile.

A horror look struck his face. How dare she even utter that as a possibility? Plodding along? Surely there was more than plodding along for the likes of them. Surely they are of above the rest of the herds, right? “Oh dear, I am going to pretend I did not hear your question. That is just preposterous,” he said while wiping the sweat on his forehead, and he does not even sweat that much, this question really did bother him more than he would like to admit.

“Oh but why? You know what? Do finish your dinner and let’s go out. See for yourself if all of these are not plodding along according to you. Maybe we could even meet some of out types and then we will put my question to the test,” she challenged him. She knew what game she is playing right now, he would not be able to resist the temptation of challenge, regardless of whether or not he has a chance to win it.


The air is cold for a January. He thinks this must have been what the people were prattling on about when they are talking about global warming. But isn’t suppose to be warmer as opposed to colder? Oh, dear, he really must have turned senile.

“Oh there’s Clayton and Daisy. What could they possibly be doing outside on a cold January night like tonight? Plodding along, probably?” A twinkle of mischief was adorning her eyes as he was proposed the possibility to her question before.

“Surely Clayton and Daisy are too sophisticated for something called plodding along, just like we are. Now be polite and let’s greet them.” How does one perspire in a murderous cold night like tonight, he does not know. He would like to look for an answer to that, maybe tomorrow. He hopes that his library is stocked enough with books on topics such as sweat. In the back of his mind, he knows he’s sweating because maybe she might have been right about them just plodding along.Oh dear, how he hopes she is wrong on that one.

“Earl! Fay! Enjoying the cold weather, I presume?” Daisy, the ever sarcastic one was waving and motioning for them to join her and Clayton.

“Oh I’m just out trying to proof something to Earl. While Earl here is out for… I don’t know. Why are you out Earl? Don’t you have other things to do?” Another mischievous smile is gracing her face when she is hinting to him that they definitely don’t have other things to do but was just plodding along.

Earl, not willing to go down without a fight decides to just strike head on into their challenge. He thought might as well that Clayton and Daisy were also outside, it’ll made the challenge be determined sooner. “Clayton. Daisy. Without meaning to intrude on your time enjoying the fine cup of tea and coffee, I would like to propose to you a question,” he said as he pulled out the chair to sit down. “What do you think is the reason that we are here? Would you consider that all we’ve been doing up until now is just plodding along?”

“Well, what else do you call sitting around doing nothing? Lazying around? Probably, but it has a negative ring to it, don’t you think so, Daisy?” Clayton was the thinker type, he tends to overthink everything, but even Earl has to admit that Clayton is always the rational one among the four of them, so Earl quietly nod agreeing to Clayton while silently cursing Fay for being right.

“Ah ha! I saw you nodding Earl! So, I was right, right? We are plodding along. There are no other reasons for us being here but just to plod,” Fay screamed but quickly stops herself before she had drawn people’s attention. “Be that as it may, I don’t think it’s entirely bad to just plod, it’s quite comforting isn’t it?”

“Oh well, you may think that we’ve been plodding along these few years, but I certainly wasn’t plodding along only. Haven’t you noticed the change in the air? It’s telling me something, and I know it seems that I’m being sarcastic but it has to mean something. I just haven’t been able to put two and two together,” Daisy chimed in. Daisy was certainly the sarcastic one, but having been living for so many years with Clayton, Daisy is some sort of an intellectual herself, she’s very sensitive in the changing of things.

“Daisy has a theory. Well not so much as a theory but a hypothesis as to what’s brewing currently. Do tell them, Daisy,” Clayton went back to sipping his tea while encouraging Daisy to disclose her hypothesis when all of their phones rings all at the same time.


<To: All Daemon>

<Subject: Gather at the march>

<To all Daemon, as you all know, tomorrow there will be a long march in protest against the President. It is to be expected there will be hundreds, if not thousands, to show up. There is a speculation that the people involve in the march will come from all sorts of age, rage, economic background, religions and gender. It has been way too long since something as big as this has presented itself. I ask that each and everyone of you to stop whatever plans you have for tomorrow, and I ask that you all be present on the march. Try not to go in groups among yourselves and try to blend in with the crowd. Find the perfect loophole and choose a person best fit to your plans of destruction, and possess them. We are in need of havoc this year. Let us all start big. 

NB. I will know if one of you decides to bail. 


“Oh dear, I hate marches. This face and this body is not made for marches. It’ll be cold too tomorrow. Why can’t they wait until spring? Do we have to do this, Clayton? We’ve been avoiding things like these before,” Daisy looked hopeful to the prospect of trying to dodge the need to be in attendance on tomorrow’s march.

“Frankly speaking, I think we have to show up tomorrow. I’m not risking anything, the message says that they would know if one of us decides to bail. Besides, there are not many of us left, surely it will too easy for them to spot us if we bail again,” Clayton explained. Oh, how his own rationality irks Daisy most of the time.

“You know what I think, Earl? If you’re so adamant to proof that we are not plodding along, this is your chance. We’ve been plodding along for 700 years, I think it’s high time that we move our muscles a bit and wreak some havoc. After all, isn’t that what we demons are supposed to do? We possess people and we torment them. There, I think that’s our purpose.”


Jakarta, 27 January 2017

Fiction inspired by this prompt.

#FictionFriday

Someone needs a vacation.

fiction-friday

“Would you like a glass of hot chocolate, dear?”

“No thank you. I’d rather have some banana pineapple coconut smoothie, please”

“Oh dear, don’t be silly. I’ll get you your hot chocolate.”


He sighed. There was no point in fighting with his wife when it comes to his nightcap. Even after all these years, it’s always a glass of hot chocolate and a biscuit, occasionally a glass of warm full cream milk, that was to welcome him whilst he’s doing his job. I’m not sure the man hates the job, but after a couple or so years of going through dozens of lists each year and genuinely giving a lot of thoughts to each and every number on the lists, I can surely conclude that the man is in a dire need of a break.

He had given the idea of a break more than he can actually care to count, but his wife kept telling him that this is not the kind of job that one took a break from. This is a lifelong commitment kind of job. A lot of people depend on him, and he ought to be proud about it, says his wife.

Proud of what? They forgot that I exist for most, if not all, of the year. Then on the very last minute, they all try to be on my good grace and expecting that I’ll remember their good deeds. It’s not like I care about whatever it is that they do, I’m merely doing my job; following the orders that have been set up by the big boss. 

Well, he always ended up complaining, even more so as he grew older, not that he ever felt young before in his life. Surprisingly, or not, he never quite able to remember his younger years. It is as if the moment he woke up, he has always been old and has been doing this job for as long as he could remember. Odd, isn’t it? I genuinely don’t know, to be quite honest; my job here was to tell you a story. So, let me continue.

If he had to be honest, as tedious this job was to him, it was not the hardest job; even though it is quite clear he has no other job to compare this one with, so maybe we shouldn’t take his word then.

But it’s true. It’s not that hard. It’s tedious, sure, and it can be quite boring and frustrating at times. Especially when I’m trying to be discreet and, let’s just say it’s not always easy to be discreet. I also have a lot of helper who are always ready to offer their services at my beck and call. Did you know that I have chauffeurs too? More than one! I have many chauffeurs driving me to places. So, I may not have any other job to compare with this one, but surely this wasn’t that much of a hard job, right?

I believe telling the story about this man is going to be hard if he is going to interrupt me every time he feels like it. Will you let me tell your story? I promise this is a good one. Okay, where was I? Oh, right! With all the perks offered by the job, one can assume the job was indeed not that hard. One is only expected to be meticulous and patient, two traits that clearly he possessed. No one actually know for sure how he was chosen to do this job, least of all himself, but everyone seems to agree there was no other person much more suitable than him for this job.

On a day like any other day, he had just finished his last round of tour for the year. He was no longer surprised by the fact that he never quite feel tiredness from all his trips. His wife said, it must have been the milk and biscuits that he ate that kept his energy going.

Hardly! The only thing the milk and biscuits ever did to me is giving me this huge belly. Not that I’m complaining, of course. This belly actually is very useful in keeping me warm. You’ve seen where I live, proper cold all year round. Oh, sorry, was I interrupting again? Do go on, then.

As I was trying to say before I was cut abruptly, he never felt tired from all of his trips. But, that day was different; he was properly bored, so bored he hate the sight of his usual glass of milk and biscuits. He wanted everything to just stop, at least for one day. He really don’t want to start the year with clean papers, making tables over tables over tables and then spending the rest of the year filling out those tables, keeping tabs on everyone. He also don’t want anymore of those biscuits and glass of milk, however delicious the biscuits may be. He wants his helper to stop working and take some rest. Proper rest. No more dilly dally waiting for him to finish his tables. He really was incredibly bored with the routine. He wants a vacation. A real vacation, where he can have actual fun instead of having his helper asked him to finish the tables so they can all start production.

That was this morning wasn’t it? You’re telling the story from this morning… Oh bugger, I’ve cut you again, haven’t I? Please continue.

Alright, I can’t take being rudely interrupted again. I’m just going to be quick and efficient, it’s not like I don’t have anything else to do. You do know that the beginning of the year is my shift, right? Things are going to be crazy for the next two months. Alright, here’s your ticket, if you want to go the mortal way, I’ve also prepared documents for you so as not to raise any suspicions. I’ve made one for the missus also. Without further ado, enjoy your vacation in Bora Bora, Santa.

Is this for real? Finally! Proper vacation! Well, can I go now? I sure can. Thank you for the narration. Very sorry I rudely interrupt you. Good luck for the next few months, Cupid!


Jakarta, 20 January 2017

A fiction inspired by this prompt from PROMPTUARIUM.

#FictionFriday

Reply all.

fiction-friday

A/N: I know, I know this was not published on Friday, but honestly I was swamped back on Friday so this only got posted today. Cut me some slack


To:

Cc:

Bcc:

Subject: THIS JOB WILL BE THE DEATH OF ME!!!!1!!


Good God! I swear this job screams bloody murder! I woke up and first thing on my mind, I’m going to murder that doorman this morning! What rights were given to him to be so cheerful at 7 in the morning? I knew it! People that are too bloody cheerful way too early in the morning is not to be trusted! What? Is he chucking bottles of energy drinks to be that cheerful?

Then I got in this bus, yeah? Next thing on my mind? I’m going to bludgeoned this fat ass bus driver! What the hell is he taking to made him whistle tunes during traffic?? No, seriously, what?? I mean, I’m just sitting there and I can’t help but feeling like I would just gouge my eyeballs out so I can just close my eyes, or lack thereof, and just sleep. Goodbye work! Whatever! It was nice while it lasts.

Right. Yeah. You’re still with me, right? Then I got off the bus, got me a cup of coffee and I swear I would just throw the damn hot coffee to that stupidly cheerful barista for telling me to “have a good day”. Who the hell she think she is to tell me to have a good day. Up yours, pink-haired and overly cheerful barista! What does she knows about having a good day? It’s not like she has to answer to an arse as a boss.

Oh, bloody hell! Don’t get me fucking started with bosses! I swear God must have spent a little bit too much of that arrogant ingredient when He created people with Boss Material! Seriously, you have got to be an arse to be a boss. There’s no way a goody goody person can ever be a boss. I mean, look at you! You’re super nice and chill, and what do we do every day? Hustle and grind over mind-numbing work just so we can pay our bills!

Oh oh! And then the lame small talk!

“Ooh what did you do last weekend?” What do you care? You’re only asking because you want to wave your damn new engagement ring, right?

“Ugh did you see the news last night?” No, you bloody oaf! Because I live in a cave! Of course I bloody saw the news.

“Oh my God. Cute jacket!” Yeah right, literally the same jacket I wore for the past few months. One you’ve been complimenting every other week.

Stop with the small talk, please!! Nobody cares!!!! Aaaagggghhhhh……….

Look at that stupid plastered smile and fake laughter! Ugh! Can’t we all just be honest and scream at the top of our lung about how this job is pointless?? Even my pencil has more points than doing this job! Gosh! I can’t wait for lunch break to come. You better not be in those endless meetings and skip lunch! I am going on a tirade on lunch!

I bloody hate this job! It is so not fulfilling!


“Damn it! Why won’t this email go? Bloody hell!

Oh, yeah, forgot to put Ally’s email. Let me check.. A.. L.. L.. Ah there it is! Allison Hammond! Done! Sent!”


<sent at 10.23>

Allison Hammond! You better be replying my email right now, or so help me God, I will murder you in your sleep!

<sent at 10.23>

What email? I’ve been typing reports for the regional team tomorrow. Did you know that they’re flying out tomorrow? For a “special meeting” with the agencies. Pfft, we all know those special meetings are just lame excuses for a vacation.

<sent at 10.24>

The bloody tirade that I sent you! Geez! Keep up! Also, we’re having lunch together. I ain’t done with my tirade! What? But the team just came from Boracay!

<sent at 10.26>

Shit! Molls! Did you send your fucking tirade to everyone?

<sent at 10.26>

What the fuck are you on about? I’m angry, not bloody stupid!

<sent at 10.29>

Nuh uh! Check your sent item, mate.

<sent at 10.37>

Fucking hell!!!!! I fucking click send to ALL instead of your name!! FUCKKKKK!!!1!!!!!1!!! 


To: All division.

Cc:

Bcc:

Subject: Office counseling.

Dear all,

Did I surprise you with the previous email? Have you ever felt like that before? Feeling angry all the time? Feeling useless? Feeling stressed out?

Well, worry not for the office is now assembling competent team of counsels to help you figure out your problem and stress. Be on the look out when our Office Counseling Centre is launch sometime in the next few months.

Here at our Office Counseling Centre, everyone is encouraged to come forward when one feels stressed out from work, or is having personal problems. Even when you don’t even feel like you have problems that occupy your mind, you are always welcome to see the counsels at the centre to have a chat. Do remember that the centre is open during normal working hours.

Not to worry, our counsels are also trained professionals and they are reachable during our working hours also. Until then, don’t be stressed out and keep your anger by yourself. Talk to a friend and have a discussion with your boss if the work gets too much to handle.

NB. To keep yourself updated on the progress of our counseling centre, keep tabs of our notice board. I will also be sending emails on the progress.

Cheers,

Molly Hanson (Head of HR)


<sent at 12.11>

Nice save, Molls! How did you do that?

<sent at 12.13>

Went and barge in to Karl’s office. Obviously, the man is too lazy to check emails, so I figured he must have not read my tirade. Went on a rant on the importance and the need to have a counseling centre for all employees. 

<sent at 12.13>

Did he bought it? How did you convince him?

<sent at 12.14>

Of course the bloody cheapskate doesn’t bought it. He said it’s such a waste of time, and honestly I was already zoning him out of my head. My goal was to save my arse, and so I start saying that happy employees equal profits because no one is stressed out so everyone can be more creative and yadda yadda.

<sent at 12.15>

Bloody hell. And he bought it?

<sent at 12.16>

Eventually! So now I really have to get working on recruiting the counsels and whatever. But, at least I’m save! Lol!


Jakarta, 10 January 2017

#FictionFriday

Psilocybin Mushroom

fiction-friday

 

6.15 AM

“Blimey,” Darcy woke up startled when she took a peek at the bedside clock and noticed she had taken too many 5-minutes extra of sleep. Scrambling around trying to find her towel amidst the chaos that is her bedroom, she opts to go and find her glasses first. Glancing around her room, she found her towel draped over her bedside lamp. As she was walking out of her room towards the bathroom, she noticed a note was plastered on her door. The note reads, I took care of the body, handle the rest.

“Bloody hell! What have I done?”

7.14 AM

Dear Darcy,

I’ve read your first and second chapter and I have made several points for you to revise. Maybe we could meet sometime next week. Feel free to text my TA to schedule a meeting. Sorry for the sudden change of plans, but I was asked to attend a seminar in London, therefore I need to prepare my departure tomorrow. As for the revisions, you not need to worry, there aren’t too many so you can take a break for awhile until our next meeting. Just make sure that on the next meeting, you’ll have more your chapter three for me to check. You are past your deadline and I need you to step up your game if you are planning to graduate this year.

Cheers,

Professor McCarthy.

8.50 AM

<sent at 8.50 AM>

holls, where are you? im at our usual spot. get here asap. urgent!

<sent at 8.50 AM>

omw, mate! be there in 5ish.

8.56 AM

“Holls! Over here!”

“What’s going on?”

“Please tell me, I might have called you or something last night,” she said as she glides the note over to her friend, Holland.

“Bloody hell! What did you do last night, Dar?”

“I haven’t got a bloody clue, Holls. So, I didn’t call or text you last night?”

“Nope. You said you’re going into your hermit mode because you’re meeting Professor McCarthy this morning. How’s the meeting anyway? She ain’t making it hard, is she?”

“Nuh, she cancelled on the last minute. She needs to go to a seminar or whatever. After this sodding note, my sad excuse of thesis is the last of my concern. Dillon wouldn’t do anything crazy, right? It’s not in her nature to wreak havoc, right?”

“I sure hope not, because if Dillon wrote this note, I do not want to be accessories to whatever heinous crime she commit.”

12.13 PM

“Hi Dillon, how are you feeling today?”

“Hi Sally, it’s Darcy today,” Darcy said as she look flustered for not knowing what to do around the room.

“Ah sorry. You haven’t been here awhile. Is something amiss? Would you like to sit first?”

“I think Dillon left me this note. I’m scared she has done something bad.”

“When did you found the note?”

“This morning, on my door. She must have left it last night, because when I came back from class, I saw nothing on my door.”

“Do you remember anything from last night?”

She bit her lips hard, trying to focus her memories back. Calling all available deities that her memories will return and help her sort out this mess. She vaguely remember a knock on the door. Her flatmates going door to door offering food; scrambled eggs and omelettes. She took a couple of scrambled eggs to sustain her hermit mode.

“I remember I had a couple of scrambled eggs. I think my flatmates were cooking or something. I was planning to finish my thesis draft because I’m supposed to meet my Professor the next day.”

“Anything else after that? Did it taste weird? Probably it was tampered with?”

“The scrambled eggs? I don’t think so. It was a regular ones with mushroom…s. Oh bloody hell! Of course they would put Psilocybin mushroom in it! They did, didn’t they?”

“They did what Darcy? What did your flat mates did?”

“Sorry, Sally. It’s Dillon, now. I didn’t know it was psilocybin mushroom until I started seeing colours.”

“What’s a Psilocybin mushroom?”

“Colloquially known as shrooms or magic mushroom. It’s a recreational drug. It can cause euphoria, altered thinking process, closed and open-eye visuals, synesthesia, an altered sense of time and spiritual experiences.”

15.15 PM

Feeling both tired and confused, not to mention scared, she walked back to her flat. She had another episode during her session with her therapist, Sally. She was trying to remember what was weird about the scrambled eggs from last night when Dillon took control. After the session, she was back and seeing that Sally didn’t think anything was amiss from her session with Dillon, Darcy was sent home with a note of ‘taking it easy and getting plenty of rest’. Sally did mention that Dillon was too busy ranting about everything there is to know about Psilocybin mushroom that Sally didn’t have enough time to ask about the note before Darcy showed up again.

17.24 PM

“Holls, what do you think Dillon did? She must have done something, right? I mean, she left me a note. She doesn’t usually did anything like that.”

“Look, there’s no point in trying to remember when you can’t. Why don’t you just finish your draft, lest you’re too occupied with the note and when Professor McCarthy is back, you’re in much more shit if you’re not done yet. For all we know, Dillon could be just joking.”

“It’s Dillon we’re talking about, there’s no way she knows what a joke is, Holls.”

“Just prioritise, mate. An obscure note or a more tangible responsibility to finish your thesis?”

“Must you be the voice of reason right now?”

“Someone has to.”

17.30 PM

While waiting for her laptop to boot, Darcy really couldn’t help but trying to decipher the note. “Oh, God forbid Dillon killed someone. She wouldn’t, would she?”

<DING!>

Her laptop automatically showed her last opened windows, which happened to be her Word file of her finished draft of her thesis’ third chapter.

Her. FINISHED. Draft. Of. Her. Thesis’. Third. Chapter.

“Bloody hell.”

20.13 PM

<sent at 20.13 PM>

Holls, you up? need to call you. asap!

<sent at 20.15 PM>

totes. sorry. was in the loo. what’s up? do you need me to come?

<sent at 20.15 PM>

yeah, would be better. bring crisps on your way. thanks, mate.

20.20 PM

Currently Darcy is feeling a lot of emotion, starting from relief to anger, and much more recently, frustration, but a good kind of frustration, if there is anything such as that. She was pacing around her room, waiting for Holland when a knock on her door stopped her on her track. Without  a shadow of doubt, she really hopes that the knock came from Holland, because then she can convince herself that what she had found in her laptop was not a figment of her imagination.

“Crisps are here to save the day, Dar. What’s going on?”

“Check out my laptop and tell me what you see,” Darcy said as she took the crisps from Holland’s hands.

“Isn’t this supposed to be part of your thesis? Chapter three, I presume? A draft of it?”

“Exactly!”

“I don’t quite understand what you mean.”

“Chapter three! The body part of my thesis! The bane of my existence. The very thing that I’ve been complaining about the past months! The reason why I decided to go into hermit mode! The trigger to my stress, which eventually triggers Dillon. And, Dillon being Dillon, she’s taking care of the body!”

“Bloody hell! She meant the body of your thesis! Not a proper body! Bloody hell, Dillon!”

“Dillon is telling me that she’s taken care of the body and she’s leaving the rest to me, which includes the conclusion part and the revision that would come with it!”

“Bloody brilliant!”

“Here I thought Dillon was out killing my flat mate for partying.”


Jakarta, 16 December 2016