A story when im bored

"So tell me something about yourself. Something i dont know."

Ilyas looked thoughtful for a moment. In his arms, Lois was warm and pliant, and Ilyas felt relaxed. For the first time in a long time, he actually forgot about his fathers death. He screwed up his face for a moment.

"It shouldnt be that difficult. weve only been together a week."

Ilyas laughed. He caressed her cheek and kissed her head as she smiled up at him. In the background, Micheal Buble crooned "Moondance", and at that moment, Ilyas felt the happiest he had ever felt in his life. He felt light headed, and he couldnt stop smiling since the day he had asked her to be his.

"Well, i like to sleep with the same socks everyday."

She giggled. It was the tinkling sound of water in a clear crystal bowl. She shifted her head onto his lap, and twirled a strand of hair that had fallen across her face.

"Well, i definitely didnt know that," she giggled again, and sighed. " i thought you could tell me something more.. urrmm.. major?"

"Like what?"

She shrugged. "I dont know. If i knew i wouldnt be asking right?" She smiled.

Ilyas shifted uncomfortably. He didnt think it was time to tell her of the jacket. Of his father. Of Sade. He looked away, out the window. The last month had been hard. His father's passing, the kidnapping to a secret labyrinth,the reading of the prophecy that he felt had nothing to do with him, and his encounters with Sade's minions had messed up the calm, stable life he had.

"Baby?"

Ilyas broke away from his thoughts and his eyes focused her. She was looking at him with a worried frown on her face. Gently, he eased her off and stood up, grabbing his jacket which had resumed the shape of a battered green sweat jacket.

"I have to go. Your parents will be back soon," he said, putting on the weightless jacket, feeling the now-familiar tingle as he put it on. He made for the open window.

"Did i say something wrong?" she asked slowly, a tiny frown on her delicate face.

Ilyas paused. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it. He couldnt tell her. At least not yet.

He reached out for her and kissed her. He gazed into her eyes as if to drink from the limpid pools of her eyes, to fill him up for what was to come.

"Ask me again sometime, okay?"

He climbed out the window and descended with the help of the trellis. It was time for the hunt. Tonight, he would head to the wharves, where he had encountered Borei.

Because where Borei was, Sade would be.

* * *

Lois watched as Ilyas sprinted of, his green jacket a dark streak in a moonless night. She turned off the music, and felt the door open behind her. A large shadow blocked the light from the corridor and a sibilant sigh escaped Borei's lips as he came to stand beside Lois.

"Are you sure he's the warrior clad in green? He seems so.. useless."

Borei laughed, a grunting noise from deep in his throat.

"Keep at it, my pet. He is besotted with you. Soon he will tell you everything." He drew a clawed finger on her cheek, the exact same spot Ilyas had lovingly caressed not a moment ago. Lois, closed her eyes like a kitten and shuddered with ecstasy.

"Soon we will know if he is as the prophecy says. If he is, then he will lead us to Sade."

Borei pricked Lois perfect skin with his claw, and watched as she sighed at the pain.Blood welled at the cut. He drew back his hand and clenched his fist.

"And then, we kill them BOTH."

In the Officer Core

Its been soome time since i last blogged, but a lot of stuff has been happening, this 2 months past, and ive been neck deep in things todo. firstly, ive been assigned to OCS! in around 9 months( 8 months and counting) i shall receive one pip and be addressed as 2nd Leftenant Taufiq! woo hoo!

But the road, the journey to said destination is crazy. Hectic schedule, falling asleep exhausted each night, punishments that take up precious weekends, etc.. But i suppose at the end itll all be worth it. I hope.

The only thing thats keeping me sane is the thought of my parents, my ps2 waiting and last but definitely not least, is you-know-who-you-are.. tho there are times u make me wish id have been given confinement.. haha.. just wanted to tell u im still here.. and that ill be here for u thru anything, alrite?

Im like listening to EnD OF THE ROAD by Boyz 2 men.. its pretty sappy, but its not that bad.. somehow its in my mp3 haha..

Alritght, shall blog again soon.. gotta go for lectures now(yeap, its a school, rmbr?)

OCT Taufiq Jailani

The Green Jacket ResumesThe March

Hey hey hey, dear friends, countrymen, readers and assorted thoroughfares, i have returned. Thats right, ive gone to the land where bravemen ermm train? and im back for some action(at least till the 18 th). So how has everybody been? heres an update on my side:

1) Ive lost 7 kgs.
2) im much darker. People mistake me for a sinhalese these days.
3)I still love green(haha)
4) Im slightly fit(i used to pant after a 5 min jog. Now i can just about manage 6.)
5)Im praying for entrance to OCS, and i might be signing onfor the next 3 years.
6) my english has degenetrated into guttural moans and wdf's, always culminating with the phrase "Eh, you knock it down!"
7)I have mastered the art of using the f-word as a noun, adjective, verbas well as adverb.
8)I have madelove to my rifle(with my rfle.. haha)
9)I missmy drama people, yellow Chair members who seem to be doing well without my presence.(funny thing..)
10) Im not as funnyas i used to be(right? right???)
11) I realise that when your very shagged, you tend to laugh at anything( tho seeing my friend falling through the jacobs ladder, twirling in mid air and grabbing the step before letting go and crashing to the ground was pretty funny.)
12) I wanna continue writing.

After such a long hiatus, im going to sharpen up my pencils and start on a fresh story, or chapter. As You all know, i don't reallylike to write in chronological order, so im just going to write the first thing that pops up in my head.

Don't hold your breath yet... :)

ps: 13) I love Naddz veri mucho!!

PICTURES from my last day in Sembawang..

Sembawang students, awaiting eagerly for the pictures, heres the link.. Knock yourself out, download all you want, and enjoy.. :)


Click HERE to get the pictures!

Lessons

"Ilyas!"

Ilyas's head shot up, eyes bleary and blood shot. He blinked thrice, his hazel eyes slowly focusing on Mr. Lee who was frowning, his hand grasping a red marker pen. Ilyas slowly noticed the glances his classmates where throwing him. Hastily, he wiped his lips, which, to his chagrin, were wet with drool.

Mr. Lee shifted onto his right foot, arms akimbo, and fixed Ilyas with a cool stare. In the haze that was gradually lifting, Ilyas realised a reply was expected.

"Err.. hmm?"

Mr. Lee was not amused.

"Stand," he growled, eyes cold as salted ice. Ilyas got to his feet, his chair scraping noisily against the parquet floor. He seemed to regain his senses faster now the entire class was staring at him. He felt like the woman with a beard,the man with three legs. He envisioned a cage around him and a big red neon sign that read " The first boy to cross The Most Scary Teacher in the school" while his classmates threw peanut shells at him and called him the Green Jackass.

"Do I bore you, Mr Ilyas? Should I juggle balls for you? Pierce myself with large needles and call myself "Spike" Lee?" The dimunative teacher was gathering momentum with his sarcasm, but Ilyas knew better than to answer. He remembered how Mr Lee had dealt with one such student a couple of years back who was foolish enough to say something lame. The police still had trouble looking for enough body parts to identify the body.

At least that was what Mark said. Ilyas remembered the other thing Mark was so convinced about: that the singer Aliyah was still alive and had engineered her own death to run away from bad debts and a forced marriage to Micheal Jackson.

As you can see, Ilyas still has not completely cleared his head. He begin to imagine Micheal Jackson moon walking around a tree and serenading the ghost of Aliyah with Hee-hee's and Ow's. His attention was harshly snapped back into focus as a a red marker pen came flying at him, thrown by an angry Mr Lee who was fuming at the non-chalance Ilyas was displaying.

It never touched him.

With a speed that defied the eye, Ilyas' right hand moved with blinding speed, intercepting the pen as it flew towards him. The loose pen cap, stopped abruptly in mid-flight, came off and fell towards the ground. It clattered loudly in the silence that followed, as all eyes turned from the surprised boy to the furious teacher.

Cold, blue eyes contrasted with the burning red face as a trace of insanity flared to life, before dying suddenly. Mr Lee seemed to want to start screaming, but amazingly he got a hold of himself, and breathed normally again, face not as red as before but the vein in his temple throbbed obscenely.

"Give. Me. Back. My. Pen." He held out a shaking hand as he spat out the words. Ilyas had timidly dropped his hands behind his back, but at the command slowly shuffled forward. The drama was back on. Ilyas somehow felt that what Mark said had a grain of truth after all. He felt as if his death was imminent.

Mr Lee gazed into his eyes, and Ilyas fidgeted, breaking eye-contact almost immediately. He braced himself for the beating that would ensue.

"Detention," Mr Lee growled, before grabbing the pen and truning his back on a silent Ilyas.

Sketches: a true success!

Thanks one and all.

Thanks so very much for Nurul for the wonderful script.
Without which i would have been editing air.

Without the crew, i would have been struggling with the scene changes, with the costumes, with the timing and with the precise running of the show.

Stand up to applause, Nadiah, Nurul, Faizal and the chief, Zul.

Most of the crew took time to learn their lines and came in with steady performances in support of the main cast. Thank you again.

The guy with the need to be a queen, and a desire to perform as a big purple dinosaur. You have been a wonderful foil for my comedic stupidity, and your comebacks are getting better and sharper. :)

Stand up to applause, Yihan.

Without an excellent cast, i would have floundered through many a rehearsals. Your hardwork, dedication as well as your willingness to work long hours over a short period of time have reaped wonderful benefits.

Stand up to applause, Shahdon, Nadirah, Dhaniah and Yazid.

For the man who inspires, encourages, harangues, scolds, loves, sings and smiles... You have been my inspiration to do well, and my motivation to try to achieve what you have. In many ways, you are Sir Alex Ferguson to my Roy Keane, Obi wan to my Anakin, and Gandalf to my Aragorn. Thank you very much.

Stand up to raucous yet slightly amused applause, Shai.

Sketches is over, but Yellow Chair will carry on. We are still climbing the steps that began with Tainted Flower, followed by Bella, and now Sketches, and we will continue to climb ever higher but with our feet stuck firmly to the ground. Thank you all, and may we march hand in hand, till the very end.

Taufiq

Sketches: A Story of Hope

In support of the Yellow Ribbon project, Yellow Chair Productions Presents,a Black Box Concepted Production:



ATTENTION!!! TICKETS ARE SELLING FAST!! DO BOOK YOUR TICKETS NOW!!

Date : 16th September( 2pm, 5 pm and 8pm)
17th September(2pm and 5pm)

Venue: Tampines Central CC, Room 3 F on the 3rd Floor.

Cost: $4

Whats it about?

See the world through the eyes of Danial, an ex-convict who faces professional failure, a total marriage breakdown and an ailing Grandmother as he fights to regain his lost dignity and love. Feel his pain and loneliness as life throws him a bad turn, and rejoice with him as he finds a path to final redemption.

Is a man judged but what he has done? Or is he judged by what he can do? Can Danial finally lay his past to rest, and build a better future?

Come on guys, its my directorial Debut! Contact Mr Yazid for booking Details as soon as possible.

91274745 (Yazid Jalil)

See you there!!!!

Something New

EXAMS ARE COMING!

I found that Miss Pei is gone! oohh.. damn.. Angie, if your reading this block, on behalf of sembawang scondary, we are going to miss u loads! juast wanna say you never fail to make me smile with your innate goofiness and really really lame comebacks. Good luck with your future endaevours, and mayhap we'll meet again in future.

No no.. im not THAT short.. just crouching a little..

Here are more pics from the teachers day dinner, before i forget..

Mrs Azwizah discovers that the rock melon is really HARD.

"Wait, the spoon is the one with the tines right?"

Seriously, Angie, im not THAT boring..

This is what happens when you forget to take pictures in the hotel itself. This picture was taken under Inda's block after the 'wild' party. The Three Stooges!!!

Inda and Siti

Now that night was really fun, considering that it was my first teaching event, and first adult party ive been to.. makes me feel 10 years older being around refined and tasteful chaps like Mr Sim and Mr Raja.. I suppose teachers are like that some how.. they have this strict guidelines of how to become a good teacher and they follow those guidelines to set a good example everyday that theybecome it. Thats why they are soooo nice , these teachers.

Another thing i realised is how there is very little backstabbing going around in the staff room. Its not like an office.. the teachers are not like office workers climbing the ladder of ambition. They have no enemies within, because in the staff room, its like a bastion or a castle where the teachers rally after battling the students all day long. They regroup, re-arm and refresh themselves with chocolates and stuff, but most importantly, they talk to each other about the kids. They gossip . They laugh at the kids. express anger and tears, show how touched they are when a student does something unexpected. There are only 2 sides in this war. Students agains the Teachers. There is no place for backstabbing politics here. Thats why teaching is so cool..

Anyway, im pretty tired now, and my language is slipping into the red zone.. so ill go.. laterz den..

Update..

Heres a very overdue green jacket story that has been bugging me for sometime. Unfortunetly, its not in chronological order, but its basically ilyas meeting up with his beloved green jacket for the first time. It was written for those of u who have been hounding me to updat my blog, and also cause i wanted to put down this major part of the legend. Hope you like it.

Ps: I drew inspiration from the lesson i thought my students about suspense and ghost stories, so i hope you can feel ilya's fear the way i meant it to be like. Do comment.

The Wearing of the green jacket

The short dusty walk up to the attic was beginning to be pretty scary. The stairs creaked under his feet, rickety steps of an old house. He breathed slowly, fear deep in his belly as he gripped the spanner tight in white knuckled fists.
Ilyas stopped. He heard it again. That singing. It was faint, but unmistakable, a soft but familiar voice, wafting from the attic.
There was someone in there.
" Hello ? Is someone there?"
Ilyas gulped the big ball that was suddenly in his throat, and he uttered a prayer. A deep breath, and he pushed the door to the attic open, ready to swing away.
The song stopped.
Ilyas faced a darkened room, musky with dust. A small window let in the light of the moon, shining down on a wooden chest. The wooden chest was beautiful, Ilyas noted silently. His eyes wandered silently through the inlaid carvings, and momentarily, he gaped at how beautiful it was. The spanner in his hand grew heavy and his grip slackened but he didn’t drop it. His fear fell away like a second skin. He felt sad. The chest had a mournfulness that he couldn’t place.
" Hello?" he uttered again, but his attention was riveted on the chest. Slowly, without fully realizing it, he moved towards the chest. He was suddenly upon it, hands trembling as he fingered the carvings, feeling the cool, smooth wood. The need to open the chest filled him, and this time the spanner fell as he knelt, worked the old lock with the key he found in his father’s room. It opened with a sigh. He pushed the top away, and it fell back without a creak.
He pushed aside the myriad of papers and trifles that filled the chest. He knew it was inside, whatever it was, but he couldn’t find it. That song. That eerie, sad song that filled his dreams each night. The source was within.
He found nothing.
Ilyas felt tears run down his face. Frantically, he searched. He tore apart papers, trinkets that were worthless to him, yet he couldn’t find what he sought. Where was it?!
He started to sob, with a sudden pain, he fell back. He ached. He knew it was there. Where was it?
As he sobbed into his hands, a figure started to rise from the chest, a grinning, dark figure forming slowly as it stood from the nothingness in the chest. Ilyas looked up with tear filled eyes, and this time, his fear was unmistakable. A scream died in his throat as the grinning shade drew a dagger from nowhere.
" Looking for something, your majesty?"
Like shining doom, the dagger came down hard and fast, straight for Ilyas’ throat.

* * *

"No!"
Ilyas jerked awake, the song in his ears fading slowly away. It was a dream. Just another dream.
But there, on his table, shining in the early dawn sun, was the key he took from his fathers room.
Untangling himself from his blanket, Ilyas made one of the rashest, most unplanned thing he had ever done.
He picked up the key, and headed straight for the attic.

No one was awake yet, the cool morning air refreshing in the pale sun light. Ilyas noticed nothing. Echoes of his dream reverberated within him, and he suddenly felt the need to be armed. He reached for the neares thing available as he walked through the living room, towards the stair. A spanner. In his dreamy state, he failed to notice the irony of his choice.
One step at a time, creaking stairs following his every footstep, Ilyas advanced up the stairs. He gripped the spanner, white knuckled fists tensed by his head. The door loomed darkly before him. He hesitated. It had all been a dream, right? He didn’t feel too certain about that. But this time, he would not let go of his weapon.
The door was locked. Ilyas tried again, unsuccessfully, turning the handle as hard as he could. He cursed, anticipation sour in his belly. Slowly, it dawned on him. He inserted the key. It fit. With some difficulty, Ilyas turned it and heard a satisfying click. Without meaning to, Ilyas pushed open the door a little to enthusiastically and it banged hard against the wall, making him jump.Steady, steady. He saw nothing out of the ordinary. No monsters, no grinning villain, just musk and dust and a whole lot of old rubbish.
Right where the sunlight filtered through the grimy window, was a pile of folded clothes on an old chair. There was no chest.
Ilyas stopped short. He felt silly. It had been a dream after all. He took a deep breath, and laughed weakly. All the suspense for nothing. He threw the spanner into the open tool box where he had fetched the spanner from earlier, and threw the cover down. It clanged loudly. He yawned mightily as he realized he still had a couple of hours left before he had to get ready for school. Might as well get some sleep.
It was then that he saw it.
From the corner of his eyes, he saw the jacket lying topmost on the pile of clothes atop the chair. It was folded nicely, the red lettering brilliant on dark green, and Ilyas was drawn to it. He cocked his head, studying the unreadable script on the jacket. It looked a little like some Indian writings he had seen on his friend’s Tamil language composition. He went closer, examining it with his eyes, then tracing it with his fingers.
No, he thought, it was similar but not the same.
Curious, he picked it up, holding the shoulders of the soft, green material and allowed it to fall open. It was beautiful. Holding it up against the bare light of the window, he grinned at his wonderful find. He unbuttoned the jacket, and slid it on, feeling the cloth( wool?) against his skin. It fit him as if it was made for him.
Ilyas buttoned up, and caught sight of the top of a full length mirror behind a couple of boxes marked ‘fragile’. He freed it without incident, sliding it on its wooden frame and looked for a good place to put it. Propping the mirror against the door to take full advantage of the weak light, he regarded himself in the mirror.
"Wow", he whispered, as he shifted from side to side. The jacket was miles ahead of his grey one, which were loose and could grow itchy if exposed to rain. Ilyas could not imagine this jacket being anything but comfortable. He nodded and threw himself a happy wink via the mirror.
But then, he froze. The jacket was exquisite, but what if it belonged to his father? It was just like the old man to deny him what he truly wanted. Especially if it belonged to him. He remembered how hard he had to work to convince his father to lend him his tools not so long ago. His father had only consented after Ilyas had shown his exemplary Ordinary level marks and his invitation to join St Albert’s. And even so, his father had insisted he supervise Ilyas to make sure the tools were returned in good condition.
Ilyas looked at himself in the mirror again. He admired the smooth cut of the jacket. He lifted his arms, tapped his shoulders and pulled on the attached hood, and pushed it off. It was decided. He would keep the jacket. To hell with what the old man thought. He smiled once more at his reflection, yawned again, and made to leave the room.
As he closed the door behind him sleepily, a thought crossed his lethargic mind.
"If only it wasn’t green, then it would be perfect."

Lets be truthful..

Lets be truthful for once..

1) I borrowed this book from Jag.. and its in pretty bad condition even after he made me swear itll be fine, or he will use his sikh powers and throw me into a raging river. iwas saving up to buy him a new copy but a) im broke, and b) the world doesnt seem to have that edition anymore...

2) I havent smoked for ages. almost 2 weeks. the last one was a few days ago, but that was a few puffs from a stolen cigg( sorry bro) and other then that ive been smoke free. Not much cravings tho. im kinda bored of having to breathe deeply all the time.. tho i think once im loaded again ill turn into another chimney.

3) Ilyas is going to the dogs. Meaning ive run out of ideas. Theres plenty of ideas flitting around in my cranium i really dunnoe what to write down. Sad hey?

4) I can wait for NS. seriously. im looking forward to leading. I dunnoe y. I have my sights set on OCS(officer cadet school) and i hope i get in. Although i am kinda lazy, i wanna be a man like sharpe, and have men respect me becos im calm under fire.. i wanna test myself, and not be found wanting.

5) I have worn, two shorts, that do not belong to me, without underwear. They belong, repectively to Messrs. Khamal and Harrison and im really sorry guys, but theyre realllllyyy comfortable.. gets wind up me err.. ballacks if u noe wat i mean.

6) I have been a bad brother. I somtimes wonder if im being to 'adult' with taha.. too many foul words, throwing things at him and throwing him around, hitting him and stuff.. but he always gets me back. harder. Like playing roughly with him is just escalating his sense of violence.. im not surprised hell end up as a gangster one day, or head of a syndicate or a lawyer even.. cos hes going to be smart that one. mightily smart. The best of the jailani's, thats for sure. Maybe i can live off him or something.. haha..

7) i think italy are damn lucky to win the world cup, to get through to the next round even! They should have succumbed to australia, but that cheating, lying scum of a Grosso went flying at the right moment. A whole nation of Naval fools, i think.. think they can dive their way to victory..

8) I have the flu. Hence, i have phlegm. And i am uber sick. Since the phlegm irritate me so much, i kinda check how much plegm i remove after every blow. thats right. i grab a tissue, blow my nose.. and check how much green stuff i got. The more the better, right? so i can breathe without sounding like vader. And theres been a few colours.
a) the green: Standard colour, easiest to dislodge. the lighter the better.
b)the colourless: these are the most difficult to remove. they normally stay between the mouth and the nose, and are more sticky then wet, thereby forcing one wait for the opportune moment to blow it out. Very very irritaitng.
c) red streaks: the dry weather and nosepicking inevitably leads to blood as the inner skin is abraded with constant digging and/or blowing. not very normal.
d) the yellow: the rarest. i just got a sample.. i think it was the tea i was drinking.. kinda sick eh?

Anyway, u noe when u have absolutely nothing to write about when u write about phlegm.. so ill keep plugging away and think of a good story to write.. maybe ill write a story about a useless twenty something with nothing to do with his life( technically im still 19, but who's counting?)..

A quickie!

Now heres the skinny: im bored. world cups over, and italy won. I now have 4 mnths till i enlist, im getting pudgy, lazy and bored(again!) i havent written a thing about ilyas in months, and i have a script i have to work on forn Yellow Chair(hush!) with two others and i have absolutely no enthusiasm cos i suck at writing scripts and watever i write turns out lyk a novel.

epic.

Harry's gone. Hes gone to the police academy and left me behind. The last of my bestfrens are gone. I miss bella a lot, tho i doubt she rmbrs me. I would so love to be friends again, but after what i pulled, i suppose this was always the outcome.

Silly me.

I wanna give a shout out to nadiah, who has been pressing me to write something. At least theres someone to encourage me. Thanks for that dear. I miss u. anyway, ive made up my mind.

Ilyas must go on.

So i will write, the script and Ilyas. So stay tuned to this channel. Cos the best is yet to come.

Mahdi vr Seya,
Taufiq

concerning Chpt2

I have no idea how to begin the next chap.. Ive had a few thoughts but they don't seem to be very cutting edge.. i like the lois thing tho.. gives it a whole cool teenage thing going on in the seriousness of the world..

I think im gonna continue Ilya's story.. at least for now.. and pretend Sade is hiding behind a screen somewhere till i call him out.. :)

Here goes...

Seba Strikes Back

I have succesfully beaten back NS for a whole month! So , if things go well at the CMPB, ill be going in July, instead of the stipulated 8th of June!!! So ill be able to watch...

Yes! the glory of winning the world cup is back! This June, the most expensive world cup( for the viewer that is) will be the hallmark of the world. People from afghanistan to papua new guinea, from france to thailand, from australia to new zealand(ok, bad choice) will be talking about Brazils winning goal, or how big makelel really is, or if crouch can reall ever couch, or if Togo has any pogo sticks.. people all over the world will be eating futball, drinking futtball( and beer), sleeping futtball(the women will be so pissed. i mean no sex for a month?) and even breathing futtball( ive tried this, and it does hurt, so dont ).

I mean look at the ball! its damn nice lah. Notice the joke played on the german guy( ie: hey look, its BALL-ack!hur hur hur).. and germany.. hooofff.. its a beautiful country!

And my favourite stadion? it has to be the olympiastadion..

i tink i might have mixed up two different stadiums, but wat the hell, they both look wonderful..

well, i have to go.. till den, do have dreams about fussball, and remember, the world watches with you. so please dont hog the couch.

laterza..

Update

Now thats all for chpt 1. Im going to start of slower now, and gradually up the tempo. Not bad rite>? haha.. tune in to see what happens to our hero.. and by the way, theres been sum glitches so if u see sum weird symbols, there prolly mean an aprostaphy( i hope this is how u spell it).. so enjoy! thats the end of chpt 1, by the way.. the first part is in the febuary section, so do check it out!

As for the pics and the new blog layout, Sharmeel Adam rajaratnam is helping me out on this score. Sharm and i go way back, and hes totally enthusiastic to get his photo taking skills into play! HIs few shots, unedited have been wonderful, so im like waiting impatiently for his next magic act.. haha..

Dis jacket is damn nice rite? im going to get it made.. too bad its like a womans 's jacket lah..

I love the buttons lah.. the cut is wonderful.. ill get it made one day, prolly in thailand where its cheaper.. haha.. and how about this arty thing? Kinda got me thinking...

I have no idea how this picture correlates to my story, but its about a guy in a green jacket( albeit with a bird) so i guess it does have some meaning.. haha.. laterz

Chpt 1- Part 2

Ilyas walked dejectedly through the screaming mass of bodies looking around for an empty seat. Everywhere, students in the maroon uniform of St Albert’s or still in the uniforms of their respective secondary schools were smiling, laughing, having a fun time at break. A second year boy with his maroon shirt un-tucked was flirting shamelessly with a girl in a light blue uniform, probably from Louis Batton Secondary. The girl laughed, lightly picking at the sleeve of the boy, who was showing her his biceps, with manly pride. His friends were riotous, shouting encouragements, some even throwing bits of food at him.

Ilyas ignored them. He yawned, and the tray in his hand jiggled. He felt as if his eyes were on fire, and had been feeling it since he got up this morning. His body ached badly; he thought his part-time job over the holidays seemed not to have agreed with him. With watery eyes he searched lackadaisically for a place to park, but all seemed chaotic and full to him. He sighed. Class had been difficult. He had failed to grasp anything the teachers had said, his mind seemed to be dulled by his fatigue. Twice, he had caught himself from falling asleep. He was lucky, though. The entire day had been about administration: school rules, school song, school uniform. Nothing much of importance. Only Mrs Lee had begun teaching her subject, Advanced Maths, and Ilyas had her pegged for a psycho ever since she dragged him to the principal’s earlier that morning.

Well, who could say now that he was a boring person with no fun experiences? At least he had some worthy anecdotes to introduce himself to his new classmates. Not that it mattered. He saw his classmates sitting in relative quiet, an island of solitude if you will, and thought of joining them. But they were deep in conversation, and Ilyas suddenly felt rather alone. He had missed out on the orientation camp before school term began, having to work on those days the camp was held. He regretted his decision not to take a leave of absence to attend that camp.

It seemed that everyone knew everyone else. Ilyas checked his step as a group of boys in green joyously backslapped a boy in white stripes on black, calling him an unfanciful name as the boy in stripes blushed. Ilyas tried to maneuver around them, and nearly bumped into a girl who timidly tapped a boy, and hugged him with a wide smile when he turned around, squealing in recognition as they boy looked quizzical.

He stopped beside a group of second-year girls sitting in a group of six. They were gossiping loudly, voices punctuated by giggles. He wondered whether he should get on a table and really scout the area. It seemed to him his vantage point at the moment was yielding the same result as the previous one. There was not a single empty seat to be had. Ilyas began to frown, as he swept the room with his hazel eyes.

The long rows of table were mostly clean, but getting messier as students ate the wonderful food. In the brochure that Ilyas had picked up back in secondary school, St Albert’s was renowned for their canoe-polo team, horse riding, fencing, archery and their food was constantly billed as excellent. Ilyas glanced at his tray. The steak looked good, but the salad looked quite damp and weak, the dressing clear. The drink was green, and he gave a distasteful look at it. Who ever heard of a green drink? He hated the colour, anyway. Made him think of the vomit he had regurgitated from Aunt Elly’s Salad the other night.

He looked at the salad again, studying the weedy appearance of the vegetables. With haste born of disgust, he chucked the entire dish into the nearest bin, and breathed a sight of relief. If he had taken any longer, he would have been unable to eat anything at all. Weakling, he thought to himself.

Once again, he looked up, searching for a place to sit. He noticed a few spaces, but they seemed to have been reserved for mates who were queuing up. He was starting to wonder when he would actually begin eating, when he noticed one of the girls from the gossiping group looking at him. She was staring at him, unblinking, drinking a milkshake in a clear glass, her lips formed in an ‘O’. Her big expressive eyes seem to devour him, and Ilyas suddenly felt pretty warm in the air-conditioned hall.

She seemed to stare at him for ages, and Ilyas tried to keep his eyes on hers, but somehow, every few seconds he would feel the urge to look away. He tried to look for a seat again, but his glance kept wandering to the girl, who drank her milkshake steadily, eyes still plastered on him. She finished her drink with a soft slurping sound, and then burped into a napkin. She resumed looking at Ilyas, making him feel his cheek warm up with sudden heat.

"Hello." She was talking to him! She seemed to speak with very little effort, as if from a dream, but Ilyas could hear her over the billion-decibel noise. Her friends were still giggling, all of them slapping their thighs or covering their mouths at a redhead who seemed to be telling bits of random gossip with enthusiasm, doing impressions of who the gossips were about. She ignored them. It seemed her whole attention was fixed on him, and only him.

Ilyas felt his mouth go dry. He tried to swallow, to get some juice into his mouth but he couldn’t. His feet began to sweat, and his stomach started to tingle. He tried to look cool, to ignore that quaking feeling from the pit of his stomach. With much effort, he steadied his hands and nodded at her, trying a smile on for size. A student from East Anglican High saw Ilyas’s face from across the hall and guffawed at his constipated look, signaling to his friend beside him who joined in the merriment.

"What’s your name, handsome?" she said in a voice that was poured honey, playing with her straw while still looking earnestly at him. The simple action of twirling was suddenly very beautiful to Ilyas, and he seemed to be hypnotized by it. It took a moment for him to realize a question would require an answer. Unfortunately, he didn’t remember what the question was about.

"MMhhm?" was the best he could do, and he silently kicked himself for being so good with words. He vowed he would do better, so he cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry?"

Ilyas noticed the sudden quiet. The laughter had subsided, and the rest of the girls were looking at him, some interestedly, some with smiles. The red head was frowning at the girl who was talking to Ilyas. She saw the look on Ilyas’ face and shook her head slowly, her frown seeming to deepen, and she chucked her napkin forcefully into her empty bowl.

"She asked you what your name was, fool." The red-heads voice was gravelly, though Ilyas guessed she could sing alto if she wanted to.

"Ilyas," he said, looking at the girl with the big eyes. He felt like it was the right thing to do, so he bowed, his tray infront of him balanced well between his two hands.

Some of the girls started to giggle behind closed mouths. A tall, attractive girl with long black hair had her face covered but her shoulders were shaking. Ilyas didn’t notice. He was riveted to those enchanting eyes. The noise had become a distant squeak, and the crowd of students had vanished. It was only him and her, and he felt a sudden joy that he fiercely quelled. He had to keep it cool.

The girl, stood up, and motioned for the rest to do the same. "We’re done here, Ilyas. You can sit if you wish." She was a little shorter than him, but she seemed to radiate a sort of warmth that he hadn’t felt the entire day. His hands were clammy now, and his throat was slightly wetter, but his stomach was still doing jumping jacks.

The girl walked towards him, and smiled. The effect was dazzling. The pearly white teeth complemented her milky white skin, and her dark hazel eyes topped it all off. And those lips! Ilyas suddenly felt a crazy urge to run his finger along those lips. He returned her smile slowly, wanting to stretch the moment. As she walked past him, eyes still on him, he smelled her perfume, light but wonderful and his head spun.

"Its Lois," she smiled, fingering the lettering on his grey jacket, gazing deep into his eyes. "You know, like Lois and Clark? Do you like it?" At his nod, she tapped his nose gently, and Ilyas nearly jumped at the contact. "Ill see you around, huh?"

Ilyas nodded once, entranced. She turned her head away with what he fancied was reluctance, waving goodbye as she turned away. The rest of the girls followed her, glancing at him as they walked by, some smiling, others winking. The red head though, was last, and she didn’t look at him at all. He had smiled to all of the rest, but when he flashed a quick smile at her, the red head turned away. But as she came nearer, she appraised him with deep green eyes, looking up and down and shaking her head as if she disproved of his dress sense.

"Nice jacket, fag." She rolled her eyes, and patted him daintily on the shoulder. "Try harder, eh? Grey’s not your colour." She smiled, very brittely, and suddenly shouldered him aside with a sudden strong body check that took Ilyas completely by surprise.

Ilyas staggered, overbalanced, his shoe stuck in some spilled jelly. He managed to save his tray with the grace of the Almighty, his tray dancing as he tried to find the balance for himself and the tray. Unfortunately, the cup of green goo he couldn’t save, and it ended up flat on his tray, casting itself onto his expensive grey jacket. He watched aghast as it began to drip onto his pants, his light grey jacket stained dark green by the offensive mixture that was in his cup.

The girl turned, and saw her handiwork, and she preened, awfully proud. She laughed, a loud rash laughter, and shook her head. "There you go! Green Suits you much better, fag. Ill see you around, loser." She turned on her heels and walked away, explaining in a loud voice to anyone who would hear about what happened.

He stared angrily at the redhead. He was made to look like a fool! He spied the Lois looking over her perfect little shoulder and flashing her pearly white teeth as the tall, good looking girl told her what the red-head had done. Ilyas felt himself blush. He threw his tray on to the table. Quickly, he glanced down at his plate, and forced himself to eat. His hunger had totally disappeared, and he felt almost burning hot. Ignoring the laughter that was being directed at him, he took off his jacket and dropped it onto the bench beside him.

The jacket was a mess. The stain would never disappear, and he looked sadly at the jacket he had bought with his last paycheck. He had worked everyday, waking up at five in the morning and slogging through to late evening, sometimes till ten at night. It had taken him a month to get that jacket. Now it was just so much thrash.

He felt his stomach growl, but he didn’t feel like eating. He tried force-feeding himself, but it was no use. Dirtying his jacket, his only possession of worth, had taken away his appetite and given him ominous tiding for his Junior college life. He tried to calm down by taking deep breaths, and succeeded. Probably Mr. Tien at the dry cleaners could get rid of the stains for him. He regularly did wonders for Ilyas’ mum when she had stains on her office clothes. He felt his stomach rumble again. He needed to eat! He tried a mouthful of the steak, and nearly threw up. He dropped his fork in disgust, as the bell rang, signaling the end of break. Perfect, he thought. What else could go wrong?

He heard a loud rip behind him, and saw an elderly woman wearing a cleaning uniform, forcing a green grey cloth from beneath her trolley laden with cleaning equipment. Ilyas nodded at her, turned to get his ruined jacket and go. It wasn’t there anymore. He did a double take, and his jaw dropped as the old woman gave a sheepish smile, one tooth gold while the rest where yellowed with age.

"Is this yours, my son?" said the cleaner apologetically, as she handed Ilyas’ a pile of rags that was once grey and now was green, and torn practically in half. Ilyas sighed, picked up his tray, and stood up. He didn’t look at the woman.

"You can keep it, Auntie. I think you’ll need it more than I do."

As Ilyas walked away, the woman smiled to herself. The cloth would be excellent on Principal Mormon’s windows. She always had trouble getting the birds dropping off, but with that cloth it would be easy. She whistled tunelessly as she pushed her trolley towards the principal’s office.

Here it is!

wow.. i love this. Its times like these that really make me wanna write! take a gander, and i would bet many of u out there are jumping in ur chairs.. i mean wow! thats what u call a superb story! haha.. ill write more like dat.. i wanna thank bernard cornwell and Dean Koontz for teaching me to write with purpose. Haha.. Enjoy!

Ilyas- One twist

Ilyas stood still. Very still. In his hands, the silver tray was laden heavy with cups and seemed to pull him down, making him smaller. It didnt. Instead he prayed that he could be smaller. Anytime now, the person (or persons) on the other side of the cellar door would hear him.His heartbeat was absolutely pounding.

There was a hissing sound. He peeped through the crack in the cellar door, praying his white uniform wouldnt give him away in the darkness. He neednt have bothered. The two men clothed in black robes where hissing softly but vehemently to each other. They stood together, face to face, not four feet from Ilyas, and their intent was not kindly. Definitely. The naked blades in their hands was a testimony to their unkindly thoughts.

"Sade said he would be here!"

Ilyas's eyes snapped away from the knives, and his eyes widened involuntarily. Sade! That name. It was the second time he heard that name, and he felt cold. The cups in his hands started to tinkle as his hands began to shake. The last time he heard that name, Sade had been synonymous with death. This time, he knew, the death would be his.

"He is here. I can feel him." The taller of the two, presumably the leader hissed. He tensed, cocking his head, and sniffed the air. Ilyas jerked back from the door, and by the almighty, managed to keep his hands steady enough that the clinking did not penetrate the heavy wooden door of the cellar. He set the betraying tray aside, and waited in heart-bursting suspense, waiting for the door to explode as a group of men in black broke through, knives singing in the cool air, eyes gleaming with hatred as the did their evil job on him.

But no. There was nothing. Ilyas could wait no longer. He counted to twenty, then moved with infinite caution to look through the crack again. There was no one there.

He knew he should get back to work. But he was afraid. Those men were waiting out there, possibly at the gents, or under the buffet table, or heck, they could be one of the guests he was serving. " A chardonnay for you ma'am or errrrkkk!" and theres a knife in his gut, and his hopes of searching for his father's killer would be in vain.

At the thought of his father, he felt his blood cool. His heart rate slowed its beating, and a calmness settled over him. The panic he felt before turned to a numbing coolness, and he felt his eyes narrow. He would not be afraid. The Greenjacket will walk again.

He grasped the release for the doors, and swung them open with a bare minimum of effort. He had oiled the joints when he came in that morning, the door opened with nary a sound. Light flooded his retinas yet he did not blink, or tear. Instead, his eyes roved the vegetable counter, to the ice box on his right and the wine chiller to his left. No sign of anyone.

It wasn't surprising. Not many waiters liked to head to the cellar area, the furthest reaches of the restaurant. Spooky they said. Once, long ago a man had been chopped to little bits by his wife when she caught him cheating with her sister. She chopped them both up actually. They said she had kept them within the mansion grounds and the staff frequently came to the conclusion that the body was in the cellar, somewhere. The older staff loved to send the new ones, in this case, Ilyas, to fetch bits of things from the cellar, and scare them silly with nasty pranks. But this time, it wasn't a prank. Unless your the type type to delight at your own funeral.

Ilyas glided through the door of the cellar room. he glanced quickly left and right, faintly aware that his pristine uniform and his polished shoes were a dead give away in the pale light of the corridor. The restaurant was a refurbished mansion which had been a colonial house built on a small hill. The corridor went right, slopped upwards to the kitchen then the dining room itself. To the left the slope continued down to the staff canteen, gents and ladies, smoking area and a new underground parking area. For a moment he was undecided. Safety of the kitchen or the answer to the mystery? Surely those men wouldn't have gone to the bustling and hustling of frenchmen cooking? Ilyas made a decision. He decided to go left.

A muted bang. Four shadows with barely a murmur in the silence of the corridor seemed to stream from the gents. Their blades were out, and somehow they did not gleam anymore, but was matte. In an act so sudden that even his voice sounded shocked, Ilyas found himself screaming.

"Stop! Who are you? Oi!" His voice sounded like thunder in the narrow confines. In his mind he imagined the men running away faster at the sound of his voice. He felt power. The power of fear. He saw that in fear, men will do anything if pushed. So he roared even louder and began to gave chase.

Unfortunately, the men werent really filled with fear. The tallest one, the one who had smelled Ilyas turned and uttered a sibillant tone to his comrades and jutted an arm at the carpark doors. The three scampered off. Then with a mocking bow that Ilyas half saw in the dim light, he drew back and something came flying at Ilyas that was so fast that even blessed with wonderful reaction time, Ilyas could barely duck as the bloody blade tore through his shoulder. He screamed, half in anger, half in excruciating pain, and he felt his knees collapse and he pitched head first into the polished linoleum floor. The pain was intense. He panted like he had ran a thousand miles, his lungs bursting for air and his eyes blurring with tears. He sat up, back against the wall just in time to see the door to the carpark close. Bastard. Ilyas promised himself that if they were to meet in different circumstances, it would be the Green Jacket who would be bowing in mockery. And Ilyas was pretty sure he wouldn't miss.

He forced his head to look at the blade half buried in his right shoulder. It was maybe a foot and a half long, the blade slender, the handle curiously ornate, with inlaid jade on its black ebony handle presumably ivory. In his pain he noticed the crimson stain of blood on his uniform and frowned at the spreading pool of blood. He had to remove it, apply pressure and pray the blood would stop bleeding or he would be very, very dead.

ILyas murmured a prayer to the Almighty, braced himself for the pull. His eyes were gripped shut, he willed his hands to move towards the knife. He stopped. Pulling it out might actually cause more damage than if he left where it was. As softly as he could, he touched the knife, and moved it infinitesmally around.

Pain. Fire and Ice. He gritted his teeth so hard he could almost swear his teeth had sunk in. A low moan escaped his shut mouth. Blood. He must have bitten the side of his cheeks. He spat it out, and decided to leave the blade when he realised something. The part of the blade that was sticking out seemed to be bloody too. The matte colour he saw earlier was actually dried blood. And it wasnt his.

He got up unsteadily, but with increasing haste. Ilyas could feel the effects of the jarring impacts of his feet on the cold floor on his shoulder. But there was nothing for it, but to go on. For up ahead, like tiny footprints of smurfs, a red trail starting from the gents led all the way to the carpark.

" Oh, no," he breathed, suddenly stricken. Sade had struck again.

Ilyas found him sitting calmly on the third cubicle toilet, his hands slack by his side his once clean uniform stained with blood. His legs were askew, as if he was having a bad tummy and was desperate to release his load. He was unrecognisable, a save for the name tag on his chest. His head was a stump, an empty neck where the villains had detached his head. His chest was a mess of blood, and Ilyas saw the moments before they took his life, and saw how the blood had spurted out of the neck as the heart continued to pump, before finally slowing, then stopping.

Ilyas felt tears on his cheeks. Rage. Sadness. Hopelesness. He felt the death of his father keener now than ever before. He had thought himself beyond tears, beyond any pain after the tragic loss of his father. He was wrong. Whoever the freak was, Sade had started the ball rolling. Now it was slowly consuming Ilyas' life, as it rolled ominously to bring his end.

Weeping like a child, not understanding his own actions, Ilyas took the name tag. He fumbled for a moment against the sticky object, the polished gold and black lettering catching the overhead lights for a moment, blinding him.

Ilyas wept. He prayed goodbye to his friend, kept the name-tag in his pocket, and made sure he didnt leave anything that might incriminate him behind. Then he waved at the corpse.

" Goodbye Wadi. Your vengeance will be swift and deadly. I just pray that HE will show me the way. Go with god."

With that, the Green Jacket, clad in red and white, walked calmly out of the gents, and ran blindly into the night.

IM AN ALUMNI!

Yep. Im an ALUMNI now.. haha.. I realise that for the first 1 and a half years in ngee ann, my life was a total bore. Not many frens, not many things to do. Then when i entered my second year, second semester, things got cool. Khamal was ard, and the EE guys got closer, as brothers are. Then there was ides and Dhan, and Nadiah, completion of Ides and the end of attachment.
Last sem was hardly felt. Seriously. Time just flew by, and now its over. Now im bumming. Heck, im bumming and doing nothing, cos thats how bad its become. Work eludes me still( not sure whether its my natural lazyness or my luck) but at least theres football to get me thru the day.

Have U heard? im Talking to Bella again. :) N im pretty surprised shes single.. and my fault too. I hope things get better for her. I just hope she rmbrs that im here, and use me as a resource. Thats rite. USE ME. Its weird sometimes when a woman flirts with u bigtime, and they start talking about taking off ur clothes and kissing u all over, and when u offer them wat they want, they come out and say " NO ".. its like they want u to come and take it or something.. take them. Bar that, they might just wanna talk about it. Woman. I wish i cud get a girl hus more like a man in some ways. Hu knows what she wants. hmm.. Den i dun have to explore so much.. :P

Ilyas is rotting, poor guy. Im late, but life is really pulling on me. I feel sick all the time, my tummy's getting bigger, Shabina might be coming back like real soon, bella's been promising me that she'll hug me when she sees me( since its legal for her now) and Dzul told me to go for the Raffles hotel Job. Well, all these things aside, im seriously bored. huh.

Oh well..

New Chapter

Its that time of year again, where i realise i have absolutely nothing to do, so i have to either go look for a job, or get down to serious Ilyas-ing. Im basically happy with the first chapter, but i absolutely hate the damn prologue! the beginning is weak, and i think i have to re-write.. like a friend of mine said it " doesnt catch onto the mind" so i will try to put hooks on it..

Anyway, things are back to its lonely best( haha) tho this time i think its really gonna be permanent. Its amazing really. U tell a girl ur falling for her and the next thing you know, your out on the streets. Weird. And i meant it too. I wonder why its easier to be with a girl whom youve lied to about this? Saying I love you in a fake way. hmm..

Funny story. Was in malaysia the other day, and i was talking about my play to my parents while Taha was asleep beside me. My mum asked if Yihan was 'lembut' (ie: fagoty) but i said no, hes more the innocent, cute, naive type. So we procedded on, and suddenly i thought of asking my mum her thoughts of Sarah, and her side splitting act(Marrriiiaaannn!!!) and then my mum cut me off as i did an imitation of that "MARRIIAANNN!" voice...

MUM: That Marian is a daughter of a Eurasian rite?

Me:(dumbfunded) err no mum. Her grandad's a Baba.

Mum: OH! No wonder she looks chineses, but her diction is superb.

ME:(trying to change the subject) WOW! look at that prata shop! Nice colours!

Mum: So what's her name?

Me:(no way out) Nazatul Syima.

Mum: Such a nice name. So arabic. But then, she (mimes a V{for vendetta} and mimes smoking a cigarette) hisap rokok (add smoking sound effects) like what only!

Exit Mum.
Cue Head banging against glass window.
End Scene.

What only siah. Why do people all ard me insist on talking about her when im accpeting defeat and moving on? I mean, two times rejected must mean something right? A good fren of mine, Zulhakim asked me, " So have you given up the fight yet?"

I shrug. My reply was simple. " I havent. But im not going to do anything about it. If God means it to happen, it will. We may choose, but its up to HIM to confirm things. So i wait. Terserah as the malay's would say. And pray."

If that answer was cheesy, i beg to differ. I believe in it heartily. I mean, if i can have these moments of othr-people-talking-about-her-syndrome, i bet she has the same thing going on, right? One can only hope.

I will return to ilyas soon. Now, its time for some gym.

Chao ancho!