Monday, June 30, 2008
Hahas shall blog abit...
ABBY's BDAY WAS FUN FUN FUNN!! hahas
thanks abby =)
Fresh pizza FTW... stale pizza suckzxzxz
Today went cafe cartel to eat dinner and do hw lol... had a fun time there and the thing is, we really did more hw compared to last time! =D
My first porkribs were very hard and i eat halfway then go ask the ppl change... then he really change! the second one is only half la.. but super shiok lol...
cafe cartel rocks =D
And this is for JF one... lol =PP
Hahas well nothing else to blog abt or maybe is me just being lazy...
so just kope smthing from my previous blog and put here... enjoy =)
Pain
Muffled sounds drifted from the ajar door into the ears of the captive. Darkness surrounded his otherwise naked body. The only thing that adorned him was a sickly ray of light shining across his torso like a white sash. His hands were clenched in pain.
“A former Chinese boxer,” the voices outside said, “We found this Chinese recruit lying under a banyan tree after the skirmish.”
The voices faded. The captive tried to recall what happened, his sweaty brow furrowed in concentration. Drops of blood oozed out of his wounds and mingled with his perspiration, running down his arms, thigh and feet. All he could think was pain.
It was dusk. The regiment was approaching the temporary Japanese base situated near some Malay settlement. The setting sun painted the landscape red, and soon it would really be; red with blood. It was only a few moments before the invasion started. The man and his comrades charged towards the sloppily built tents and opened fire, bullets bursting from the tip of their rifles. The Japanese soldiers screamed in horror and pain as bullets reduced their bodies into bloody shreds.
Suddenly the man fell, as if knocked over by some unseen force. All instincts told him to run for cover. Every step was a step of agony. Eventually he reached the banyan tree. He collapsed in pain, blood pouring from the gaping bullet hole on his thigh.
The captive tried to move his blood-soaked arms. They were chained to the wall. Now he could see through the darkness, and the walls of the room were decorated with implements of torture, implements of pain.
“Whack!”
The cane smashed onto the bare flesh of the boy. He was back in his childhood home, a kampong.
“I told you not the feed the beggar!” his step mother screeched, continuing to thrash him. Stroke after stroke landed, the boy howled in pain. The boy had been through the wrath of his petty and selfish step mother many times before. Nevertheless nothing could deter him from going back to the beggar and feeding him. This was how he was brought up, experiencing a childhood of pain.
He was now in a boxing ring. The audience howled as the man landed a crushing blow onto the opponent. The opponent retaliated by landing a volley of blows to the man’s solar plexus. The man withstood the pain and made his retribution, finally leaving the opponent on the ground, writhing in pain.
He was now in the recruit camp, hours before the fateful skirmish. He was recruited for his physical prowess and his endurance. The man stood up, legs aching, but no pain can deter him from fighting the Japanese, from fighting for his country…
He was back in the interrogation room, and darkness once again surrounded him. Footsteps approached the door. The man’s breathing quickened, just like when he was thrashed by his mother, just like when he fought his opponent in the boxing ring, just like when he was shot. His mind was made up; no amount of pain can deter him from achieving his goals, and no amount of pain can force him to betray his country.
The door finally opened.
stop looking down
brightness will break through, and SHINE @ 8:01 AM
Jireh