Stories

Poetry	Stories
Artwork	Ads/Graphics

Here are some of the things I've written in the past few years.
They are mostly short stories. I haven't written that many,
but I have many ideas in the back burner. I really need
to get off my lazy ass and start on them.

Stories

Asia Cafe Treaty of Spring 2003
(This was written as a joke, my roommate was
so addicted to the game Counter-Strike
that something had to be done)

Counter-Strike Absence + Soob Agreement of 2003
Implementation date: 2/14/2003
Drafted by: Hon. Yu-Hsien Ho

On this day, 14th of February in 2003, Seong-Jin Choi voluntarily subjected himself to a binding, written agreement. In conjunction with myself, Yu-Hsien Ho, who is his roommate and in See-ong's naiveté, " a friend"; I only agreed to draft this agreement in hopes to ruin his life. In this written agreement, Mr. Choi voluntarily sought to rid of his indignant routine of repeatedly avoiding the attendance of morning classes here at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. The original draft of this treaty was handwritten on an Asia Café menu by myself, but later inputted in Microsoft Word. At first an oral agreement, Mr. Choi appealed to me later to have it turned into a written agreement in which he will comply with all of its provisions in regards to his absentees. Thus, this is a binding agreement with real consequences wherein Mr. Choi will be forced to act in accordance to this contract no matter what the cause nor the severity of that cause for any disregards in regards to the contract.

The problem of absentees began in conjunction with the beginning of the school year, freshman year. After nearly 2 years of missing several classes on a weekly basis, mounting up to perhaps a total of several months of missed classes, Mr. Choi finally decided to seek professional help, from me. At first I declined acceptance to his plea, for the sole reason that I have better things to do than help this particular human being, but then it dawned on me that this could be one of few chances in which I will personally be able to take full control of a madman's life. In that regard, and in that regard only, I graciously accepted. He vested in me the power to put forth various stratagems in which would eliminate any absentees from this day forth. The best strategy in my mind was one of severe punishment for any infractions in regards to absence. The problem I faced now included coming up with punishments that were severe enough but didn't incur death on the participant Mr. Choi, right away at least. At first, I opted for immediate death upon violation, however Mr. Choi would not comply, and, with tears streaming down his face while shaking his head violently, he cried "But I don't want to die! I'm too beautiful" At that instant, I lost the little respect I had placed in reserve for him, in the unlikely and uneventful event in which showing him some respect was deemed absolutely necessary.

Mr. Choi suggested to me the punishment of a day without Counter Strike in the event of an unattended class. That was a valid punishment, however, I wondered to myself what would occur if Mr. Choi decided to violate that punishment by playing CS even after not attending class. Mr. Choi already devotes his whole life to CS, due to important clan matches, meetings, scrims, playing with friends, playing with family, watching CS videos, making CS videos, or even daydreaming about CS, his life is entrenched in CS. However, any of these above written statements in regards to CS are not allowed under said contract. My first obligation to Mr. Choi is to make certain that the first Clause of "No CS" will not be violated under any circumstances. Any form of torture is unacceptable as a punishment due to Mr. Choi's low pain threshold. His body is freakishly more delicate than of an average baboon male. Any pain, no matter how slight, will most certainly induce a breakage in multiple joints and bones, and immediately followed by sudden death in the life of Mr. Choi. However that is not viable for the first punishment for reasons that the public does not want him to get off that easy.

Provisions

Clause I- In the event of an absence, Mr. Choi will not be able to come in contact with CS for 24 hours immediately following the missed class, in any way shape or form.
*It should also be stressed that outside parties have the obligation to engage in CS conversations and gaming regularly in the presence of Mr. Choi, tempting him to violate clause I in order for him to receive proper punishment in Clause II.

Clause II- In the event Mr. Choi decides to violate Clause I by coming in contact with CS, he will suffer the first punishment. This punishment is exercised in the case of a first violation, and the first one only, for more severe penalties stated later in this document will incur if clause I is violated more than once. As first punishment, he will have to stand against a wall, with his thighs parallel to the ground, with his back against the wall, and stay in that position for 10 minutes straight.
Sub-clause II- If in the "likely" event wherein Mr. Choi cannot complete said task due to overall weakness, he will be allowed to repeat the exercise in three intervals of 5 minutes each. Thus adding 5 minutes to the original punishment, but getting a minute recess in between each interval. Also, a photograph will be taken during such punishment as proof to the general public that the punishment had been carried out. It should also be noted that if he cries, he dies.

Clause III- If Mr. Choi chooses to violate Clause I a second time, the next punishment will prove to be much less merciful than the previous. Thus in Clause III, as will be stated, the second time perpetrator will have to sign another written agreement in which he will offer consent for his future spouse to carry his last name in the place of "Choi". Thus ending the lineage of the "Choi" family name.
Sub-clause III- If Mr. Choi wants to have a child, he will have to carry the baby himself until it is time for labor, how he will accomplish this task is not known, but it must be done. In the "likely" event wherein Mr. Choi does not wed in the future, he will forfeit the right of a last name, and live the remainder of his ephemeral existence simply referred to as "SC^2 Sech", and live his golden years not in a retirement home, but rather a maximum security prison in Bangkok.

Clause IV- I, Yu-Hsien Ho, reserve the right to add on any amendments to said contract in the very unlikely event in which Mr. Choi finds any ambiguities that could be exploited in his advantage. I also reserve the right to add and or remove any amendments I deem necessary to further develop this contract and Mr. Choi to its fullest potential. The substance of this said contract and any amendments added thereafter would be regarded as law as an addendum to the national law that Mr. Choi currently follows as a resident of the United States.

Clause V- In the event wherein Mr. Choi engages in an oral covenant with anyone in regards of stating a undertaking of not coming in contact with CS for a set amount of time, he will therefore not come in contact with CS in said time or else be punished accordingly as if Clause I were infringed upon and followed by relative punishment of each subsequent clause and/or sub-clauses as they are breached.

Clause VI- Due to an overwhelming general public consensus through protest, I hereby extend one clause to include a third party member who has yet to be mentioned within this agreement. On the 5th day of March, of 1995, give or take 3 years, this man came fresh off the boat from S. Korea and now resides in North Carolina. This boat he arrived in was a small boat, relatively speaking in comparison to his own size. This FOB's name was Hansub Choi, which he later changed to Soob, to be less Fobbish and to ease his way into this fresher, less Fobbish society than himself. In conclusion, Clause VI simply states that as universal fact/truth, that "Soob is a Fob". The decision to add a clause of this magnitude to the agreement was taken under careful consideration over a great deal of thought, in which Mr. Choi and I both concurred on this distinctive addendum as deemed necessary and extremely crucial to our way of life as Asian Americans.

Clause VII- This following clause will also be known as "Super Soober Boober" Clause, for a top secret reason to which I cannot reveal at this time. Many have complained about Hansub's hair, Mr. Choi in particular is extremely jealous of the profuse manner in which Soob's hair is arranged, knowing fully that he himself will most likely go bald due to unnecessary stress. Often times, the profuseness of the protein strands can be quite bothersome. While standing behind Soob, one's vision is blinded by the bush, and is required to move out of the way in order to see. This causes great inconvenience for everyone who has to stand behind Soob, not to mention the BaDonkaDonk. In conclusion, this clause will set a limit of thickness for Soob's hair. After careful calculations and thought, the maximum amount of hair allowed on his head at anytime has to be within 7 ½ x 2 ½ inches. In accordance to the width of his head, this was the maximum allowable hair mass to allow maximum vision from a person standing behind him. Most of us are not short enough for the BaDonkaDonk to impair our line of sight, so the BaDonkaDonk is OK for now, I repeat, the BaDonkaDonk is OK.

Clause VIII- The following clause will also affect Soob. Soob was born with a mouth filed with bile and decadence, he could not help that fact, it was just the way he was born. Every time he opens his oral orifice, certain unmentionable phrases and/or noises leaks through and forever damage the virgin ears of innocent passerby's. As someone who personally knows Soob, although not that well, not that well at all, I can safely state that the determinable rate at which these vile sounds come out of his mouth is at a rate of at least 10 per every 3 words spoken. These words include first and foremost, "Sekki", "Hell's nah", "hell's nah biiitch", "biitch", "bastard", "wong Ba Dang(which is Chinese for bastard, I taught him that one, and have regretted it ever since)", "shit", and many many many many many many many more. It hurts my eyes to even type these vile words; I cannot go on any further. What Soob needs in this case is mutual support assistance, in which we all as a group are not willing to give, thus resulting in the adoption of this clause, which states that Mr. Chong is allowed only 1 curse word or strange sound, per every 1 word. Although this is way above the national average in regards to cusswords per regular word spoken, this is a big step up for Soob. We all know that he suffers a genetic disorder, and that is why the clause will retain Mr. Chong's constitutional rights, although now limited.

This agreement has been signed by myself, and in the place of Mr. Choi and Mr. Chong, I have "John Hancocked" it for them, which is just as good as if they had signed it themselves. Now that this agreement has been implemented, I hope everyone in the community who reads this agreement aids in the enforcement of said agreement to its fullest context
I have also already taken the measure of sending this to my Congressman John Edwards. He has personally guaranteed that this agreement will be made into national law. He tells me that it is right now being passed through the Education Committee and almost no dissentions among any Senators and Representatives in regards to the passing of this bill. We are certain that by the end of this congressional session before school's end, this Bill will be made into Law.

Bridge

We've been driving on this bridge for what seemed like weeks, weeks of which I have no recollection. Time appeared to be at a standstill. We were trying to reach some destination. One would wonder how we would ever get to this destination if we don't actually get off this bridge. Maybe it's a fascination with this bridge and its surrounding area, everything is so mesmerizing. It isn't just a run of the mill bridge. The bridge lacked the side railing, only on the inside lane, not the outside. The railing itself was quite formidable; it was 10 feet high and constructed from I-beams. This bridge was also very long, one cannot see its end, but only that it curves ever so slightly, disappearing far into the hazy horizon.

Enclosed within this monstrous structure stood half finished buildings waiting to be built, and half ruined buildings waiting to be demolished. We could see ceilings still falling, down into sharp edges of the shattered concrete and broken I-beams below. No one in their right mind would ever dare tread atop the rubble left beside the inhabitable buildings. However, it would be a playground haven for kids at the bottom, plenty of room to run around in the area under the bridge and lots of good hiding spots within the buildings, just as long as they minded the occasional collapsing ceiling.
The rubble was jagged and uneven, piled several stories high. It's hard to imagine all these varying debris once belonged to some magnificent structure towering over its surrounding areas. Judging by the number of barren buildings, one could tell that this area once represented a local empire. Why then, did people abandon this area when there were buildings left to be built? It didn't make sense to me.

Anyways, getting back to the bridge; as I mentioned earlier, it did not have the side railing that kept cars from flying off the bridge. Even though the thought of danger was there, I had full confidence in the driver, because I knew he wanted to live--like the rest of us. I felt a strong enough faith in an odd sense of familiarity in him that I did not worry too much, nor have I ever worried before with him at the helm. The atmosphere was industrious as smoke rose out of nowhere into the open skies. And instead of a solid road, there were square holes everywhere. The holes were not big enough that the tires of the car would slip down and get stuck, but just the perfect size so that the car wouldn't do that. However, it provided us with a bumpy ride, one which we managed to endure without much complaint…at first. We just couldn't get off this bridge for some damned reason, there were so many on ramps onto the bridge and entrances into the surrounded city, but not one exit to get off the bridge and onto the outside. Something about this whole situation made me uneasy, and I just wanted to get off the bridge as son as possible.

The smoke continued to rise from the rubbles, and getting so bad now that we could barely see the surrounding area beneath the bridge. I knew we were still on the same bridge though, that's for sure. I told the driver to turn on the music so I wouldn't have to hear the incessant bumps. It helped at first, but I could still feel the bumps. The persistent vibrations served almost as much purpose as an unscratchable itch. I told the driver to turn the bass up even more. It was pointless. I knew if we kept driving, the tires will end up popping and we'd be stuck, like the many abandoned cars on the shoulder of this 10-lane bridge. All of them had a white flag tied to the windshield wipers, along with a flat spare.

"We are definitely not going to end up like those guys, pull the fuck over right there, at that gas station", I demanded, and I was dead serious.

"Alright, alright dude, chill out," said the driver, now looking slightly worried and obviously couldn't see what the big deal was.

The whole time we were driving, this was the first gas station we saw. The driver and I got out and went to fill up the car. There was a guy in the backseat, and he wanted to stay in the car for some reason. A large white sign near the pump, with letters in bold red, read, "please pay first inside". I let out a sigh, turned my head disappointingly sideways, and told the driver friend that I would go in and pay for it. The gas station attendant wore a green, mesh "JohnDeer" hat in a bold yellow logo. His hair was unevenly proportioned, which the front is much shorter than the back. It was the ever so popular "mullet".

"Hey, how's it going?" I asked as cordially as I could, while attempting to conceal the fact I was fairly irritable at that moment. I wondered if he saw the muscles lining along my jaw strain for that smile.

"Doin' just fine sir, how much ya' need?" The gas attendant asked, while proceeding to scratch the tip of his nose with the finger beside his pinky. I could never remember what that finger's called. I wondered whether or not he actually had an itch, or if he was trying to get rid of that grease spot on his nose. Or maybe he put that grease spot there when he was trying to alleviate the itch. Looked like I would never find out, since it didn't matter too much anyways.

I handed him the money and said, "Here's $15, you got any maps?" I couldn't stop staring at the black spot on his nose, it just annoyed me, he apparently didn't notice.

"Nah, we don't keep maps round' here, no one never buys em'," he replied, as he increased the circumference of the black spot on his nose with his annoying finger.

I quickly countered, "You're kidding right? Well, we need to know how to get off this bridge, this thing ever end?"

Something about what I had just said surprised him, and he stopped touching his nose for the moment and said, "Why would you want to get off this bridge? It's the greatest construction in all of mankind. I done lived hea' all mah life. I probly' be here till the day I die. Folks around here don't usually complain much, it's peaceful, and you don't ever get lost around here, it's perfect."

That comment put a sudden rise of heat in me, starting from my lower chest, I could feel the heat creep up to my neck, and eventually rise up to my face; all of this flutter occurred in less than three seconds, "Maybe that's because they don't know any better. Listen, me and my friends just want to know how to get the hell outta here, that's the only thing I want."

The man lifted one brow while showing a subtle smirk, then sighed and said, "I'm sorry, but I can't say. There's really no need to go anywhere, just take the next right into the city and everything will be ok, I promise. You don't want to get off the bridge and go to the outside, you probably won't like it."

We stood there-in silence- for the next 30 seconds. The grease spot on his nose grew to an intolerable size. I couldn't avoid it. I felt so damned uncomfortable with that damned spot, it's just sitting there, on his face nonetheless, standing out where it's not supposed to be. "fine," I said with a glare in my eyes while opening the door to leave. "and fix that smudge on your fuckin' face you insular retard."

"What smudge?" he inquired, with a dumb and dumbfounded look on his face.

Good thing we ended the conversation when we did, because this guy not only got on my nerves, but was damn near close to pulling it out of my body strand by strand. How could anyone be so arrogant as to think he knows what's good for other people. "Greatest construction of mankind" my ass. And what was the big deal about the whole getting off the bridge thing, some people are such assholes.

"Yo dude, lets get outta here, that hick in there wouldn't help," I said through the rolled down window to the driver. I brushed a slight itch off the side of my nose as I lifted the door handle to get in the passenger side. My ass forced a sound when it rubbed against the leather seat that sounded like I had passed gas. I opened my eyes wide and said, "It wasn't me, I swear, it's the leather." The friend in the backseat started laughing, and I couldn't help but chuckle myself. The driver was not amused at all. He didn't seem to want to leave this God forsaken place. He looked upset, so I decided to let out a loud fart for real, but still he didn't crack a smile.

"So… we gonna go or what?" I asked, while being a little surprised at all the negativity I felt from him.

"look, who the hell put you in charge anyways? Maybe we don't want to go, this place seems perfectly fine to start a life, that's what we were out driving for in the first place," he said challengingly. "I heard what that hick told you in there, and I think we should just take his advice and stay. And plus, I'm the fuckin' driver, not you!"

He glanced into my eyes for a split second before quickly gazing away at the windshield in front of him. I saw a look in his eyes that told me he saw a look in my eyes that he didn't want to look at for too long. He could sense my anger and dared not test me.

"Am I the only one seeing this? The fact that there's something perfectly wrong with this whole fuckin' situation."

Moment

Silence

The tension I felt caused me to not know what to do. It caused the driver to not know what to do either. The following words came out of my mouth almost instinctively, it flowed so naturally, and it was something I should've said in the first place.

"Alright, if you want to stay, go ahead, but I'm gonna go."

I looked back to the guy sitting in the back seat. He didn't know what to do. Insecurity and indecisiveness kept him still and he's lucky that it did. The driver on the other hand got out of the car, but tripped on his way out. His left foot got caught and he landed on his palms. His right palm however, was not that fortunate, because he landed on a broken piece of glass. It slit open a deep hook-shaped cut. When the wound heals he would probably have a fourth line on his palm. His bullshit palm-reader will probably spew some bullshit about him being special with a fourth line on his palm, and how it represents a good long life. I'm glad he got the cut in his hand. He deserved it. It was his choice to stay, to get out of the car, causing him to get that gash. His own damn fault.

He was still on his knees on the pavement, nursing his wound the best way he knew not how. I could see small pebbles stuck onto the white of his palms, along even whiter spots on his palm where the pebbles had previously unstuck. It looked so strange. I stood there just watching his blood drip onto the pale pavement. The red on gray looked like it was creating an abstract painting, a painting without apparent meaning but is so profound that words can't describe it. It was his feelings on the pavement, his soul that was just dripping, and if he didn't get it fixed, it would escape him completely and he would die.

"Come on, get in, there's a first aid kit in the car. We'll fix that wound and get out of here." I said apologetically. He was tearing up now. I didn't know if it was due to the physical pain, or some pain that he can't explain to anyone else, but only he could know and understand; that internal unspeakable pain that everyone has hidden inside, so deep inside that they can't see it until it explodes from within and clenches them without warning.

"Thump", his forehead slammed to the ground right after his body went lax and fell over. His head impacted with the ground with such a force that I knew immediately he would not be coming with us.

I looked at the guy in the backseat, he was sobbing quietly with his hand balled up into a fist covering his mouth but revealing his upper lip. He bit down hard on his knuckles, and then rubbed some tears away with the palm of his other hand. He looked scared, and I understood how he felt.
But it was time to go. I got in the drivers seat and realized I'd never driven before in my life. It was always the dead body lying on the ground that drove. All my life, it was he who drove, it was he who drove me into this hellhole, but now it would be up to me to drive myself the hell out of here. I put on my seatbelt, looked at the odometer and then looked in the rearview mirror. I saw him in the backseat, looking pitiful and still crying.

I started the car and felt its vibrations.

The guy in the back decided he wanted to speak. "should we go back for him?" He asked. "Maybe he was right, maybe it'll be better if we stayed, we'll probably get lost if we start driving, or worse yet, end up stranded somewhere, all alone. That would be horrible."

I ignored him, and turned on the radio. The song "Drive" by Incubus came on. "it's a sign dude! A fuckin' sign, now I have to drive, I have to drive!" I yelled excitedly.

"What sign?" he asked.

I replied his sorry ass by turning the volume up. He started complaining again, drawing upon the worst-case scenarios of what could happen if I drove. So I turned the knob all the way up, put the car in first gear, and floored the sucker. I heard what sounded like murmurs coming from the backseat and smiled to myself. I was satisfied drowning in song and speed. I grasped the rearview mirror with my right hand, snatched that sucker off and counter side-armed it against the passenger side window with all my might. It put a dent in the window. "whooooo!" I yelled.

Maybe I will find a way off the bridge, maybe I won't. But I have to at least keep driving, keep searching.

Clubbing Night

10/10/03
Knowing that in my drunken stupor, most of what I felt at the moment had to have been a figment in my mind, nothing much more. Yet it is fulfilling to know, and to feel what I did at the time. Nothing else mattered. There were tens or maybe hundreds of people, but she was the only person I could see, the person in front of me. Everyone else I touched inadvertently, I felt was her. The central focus could not and did not fade, I could not keep my eyes off, nor my hands off her for that matter. What I felt at the moment was unwarranted, and unreal, yet it felt great. I knew only the blissful unreality of the situation.

In the beginning, I felt all the eyes staring at me, and they were against me. After it hit, I felt my eyes on everyone else, but I wasn't there to judge them anymore than they are judging me. Although all eyes may have been on me, I knew for certain one pair was not, the one that mattered most at that moment.

I went for another shot, and returned to the dance floor.

There she stood, moving, wriggling, energetic. We were dancing, rubbing, conversing, laughing, holding, staring, sweating, pumping-blood pumped throughout as we moved faster, and faster still, to the beats. She felt uncomfortable, knowing we're friends-dancing the way we were. She told me this while we held each other, and I laughed it off; I felt nothing of the sort, in fact, that was the only thing that made me enjoy the whole situation. I could enjoy myself because I wasn't nervous, I could be myself and do as I wished-knowing nothing would come out of it, knowing she purely a friend. My body felt lax and my hands wandered to where my mind wanted, without inhibition. That was the ultimate comfort, for the first time in my life I realized it. It was a new comfort zone, more comfortable than sleeping a dreamless sleep. But it was in actuality very much like a dream, except it took place in reality; a limited stupor of a reality.

Everything is more fragmented now, more dreamlike. My body flowed as the dreams flowed through my body. The flow of dreams caused my body to move with fluidity. I could do no wrong, the movements of my body coincided with my thoughts, the beats, her, and nothing else mattered. My muscles were softened, my bones lightened, and my joints numb-but moving.

The Dentyne Ice gum I had been chewing on for the past three hours is starting to hurt my jaw. I got close to her and told her my jaw hurts, and she told me to spit it out. I told her no. In my mind, I knew that the gum and the pain it was producing on my jaw was the only thing keeping me in control. As long as I could feel the pain, I could distinguish what was real and what wasn't, and act accordingly. But I still wished for what wasn't. Time moved so fast yet to me, it seemed to be at a standstill, being captured in the moment. And the moment was powerful, but short. Hours passed on what seemed like minutes.

I stared as she tried hard to avoid my gaze, yet her fingers and body gave me all the attention I could ever want. I wanted to see her to stare into my eyes, so that I could see me see her. I only saw her gaze for split seconds, before she turned her head to the other direction. I brushed her forehead to wipe the sweat off her, trying hard to get her attention. The blood in me kept telling me to go ahead, but she would not see me. I wanted a closer connection, but she was elusive. She continued to move, wrapping herself around me, as I did the same to her. Our faces were at foot length apart in the beginning, now it was inches-no, millimeters-no, it was no longer apart as we were cheek-to-cheek. Our legs filled each other's; we were so close there were no spaces between us, except for our garments. Even with that obstruction, I could feel my way right through it. My jeans became uncomfortable all of a sudden, and so I laughed; I wondered if she noticed. She laughed with me, so maybe she did notice. It was hard for me to move around now with the discomfort.

The music was so loud it became numb-and I with it, all I could feel now was the bass, and how it guided my movement. Only blurred sight and touch were left. I could barely hear anything she said. The music completely left me. I had to feel my way to the beats by feeling her out. I felt so loose, so free. My sense of touch was heightened. When she swayed, I swayed, when she moved, I moved, when she spun around, I stayed where I was and smiled. I felt an innate desire that I hadn't felt in so long-I wanted to dominate her, ravage her-and finally envelop her. This craving developed further.

I felt so light, for the touch was real, as well as the feelings for the moment. The moments came and the moment went; now I sit at the computer screen typing endlessly. Words flow so easy right now. Now that my energy is all going into this written prose, I feel the need to sleep. I wonder if all of what I felt will escape me once I awake up.

I hopefully await the next time I will find this dream-escape, a dream in reality, a reality in an unnoticed disillusionment.

Machination

I found myself in an unfamiliar surrounding, surrounded by seemingly unfamiliar friends who seemed to know me. They were a faceless couple, one male and one female, who apparently were very much in love. We walked around a world, where the sky could not be seen. Surrounded by metal, machinery and stationary conveyer belts all stationed in no particular pattern or design, we couldn't help but feel very cramped in. Along with the limited movement due to our surroundings, there was a feeling that we were on a very high altitude. Looking down, I could see various pockets of empty space below me, and More empty spaces below the higher empty spaces. I dared not walk around aimlessly or else I might fall down and perish. Every step taken was a careful one, I wondered if the conveyer belt would start moving without warning.

Then all of a sudden, the whole surrounding came to life, certain conveyer belts began moving, voices could be heard in the background, machines "kinked" and "screeched" and the cramped space seemed to have opened up a little More. I began talking to my male friend, who I had never seen before in my life prior to this moment. I forget what we talked about, it wasn't that important. All of a sudden in the middle of our conversation, my friend tells me that his wife, who was present just moments earlier, had died. Like a plague, I was invaded by the misery that he was supposed to be experiencing and felt it as if I had lost my own wife. I looked around, and just knew that she had died after falling down into the bottomless pit of machinery and conveyer belts. Then surprisingly, not even a minute had gone by and the saddened widower was happier than ever. He told me that he had found someone new. I told him "oh, great", but deep down I felt it wasn't right to have his wife replaced so soon after her death, such a tragic death at that.

The machinery got louder, drowning out the voices in my head. I could feel uneasiness within the people surrounding me, working at their machines. These faceless souls were frightened of something. It was a very peculiar thing that the emotions of others seemed to have emanated into me, and I immediately became very frightened of something. Then one of the faceless workers screamed, "she's gonna get us! Ahhhhh!" Then I saw that the workers began disappearing, something was taking them down into the pit. I realized that it was my friend's wife who died earlier; she's back for vengeance. At the time I was walking on a metal beam with my widower friend, and was cautiously looking down to watch out for any signs of the ghost still haunting us.

On the conveyer belts, I saw a rush of water quickly slide across. At the head of this violent blast of water, was the shape of a woman in water form. I could not see the face due to the fast speed that the water was traveling, but I knew who it was. Even though her upper body consisted of solely water, it was a powerful body. I did not see how she was able to take the other workers down into the pit, because she did it with so much speed and power. I could at once hear the water rushing to my left, the next moment it was rushing on my right, and then directly below me. The conveyer belts stopped moving, and there were no one else left but me. The whole place was silent. I looked down to see if anything was happening below, and saw my friend on the conveyer belt below me. I feared for his safety because I knew that the water creature was after him. Without a thought, I jumped down to the conveyer belt below to join him.

When I got down there, my friend had vanished from where I saw him before. "Oh no" I thought to myself, "she got him…" I turned around, not knowing what to do and where to run. As soon as I turned my head, I saw her in front of me, face-to-face. The fear had gone away for some reason, perhaps because all the scared people who once surrounded me had perished. Her face was beautiful, it was the first face I was able to see this entire time. Even though her face was made of purely water, I could see the shapes of the eye sockets, nose, cheekbones, lips, and hair. She was so beautiful and soft; ripples kept her shapeless face in constant motion. Her slender hands moved gracefully, and she placed her gentle fingers on my shoulder. She then proceeded to move even closer to me, inching towards me while the soothing sound of the ocean waves following behind her.

She moved so close to me that her face touched mine, and our faces blended
together, almost making us one entity. She continued forward until our two heads united as one. The water seeped through my skin and into my mind, such purity and power streamed into me that I felt completely at peace and in love. After a few moments, she inched backwards, and surprisingly left my face dry from water. A few inches separated us and she remained in that position looking right through me with her innocent form. I felt that neither of us wanted to leave, but then she broke the silence. She said to me without speaking, "I know that you're a good person, that's why I will let you go." Just as soon as she expressed that message, the waves behind her crashed and she rushed out into the conveyer belt and disappeared. After she left, emptiness surrounded me while only the conveyer belt I kneeled on remained.

Summer Day

A humid gust of wind hurried the beads of sweat down the side of my cheek. I could taste the salty grains as it trickled down into my mouth and onto my tongue. (tlak about how the sun burns the top of the head, it itches, you scratch it, you can feel the heat on the palm of your hands.) The sun was beaming down on my neck, and it was starting to burn. I rubbed the back of my neck to try to block out the sun, but it burnt the back of my hand instead. I stared down the long and empty street and marveled at the mirage rising above the ground. "Transparent smoke" was what I used to call it. This was to be my last summer in Taiwan, and I wondered if I would be able to see the same scenery the following summer in America.

I don't even remember why I stood there, I just did. My shirt clung closely to my skin, glued down by my sweat. I continued to stare down the road until I heard a familiar voice calling in the background. At first I didn't hear it at all, I only heard a faint, repetitive noise. The sound grew louder and angrier. I finally realized who it was. I ran as fast as my skinny legs would carry me, down the block to where my grandmother stood. I stopped in front of her and tried to catch my breath.

A pair of angry eyes stared down at me. She wore a dark shirt with flower patterns and a pair of long black pants. As a woman who grew up in China living under strict and traditional family values, she never wore shorts, not even on this particular hot summer day. I stared straight at the biggest pink flower that was on her shirt, and was too scared to look up. Apparently, she had been calling me for over a minute while I stood there with no response. I glanced up once or twice to catch her glare. The wrinkles surrounding her eyes showed what a hard life she lived, and the struggles she faced throughout life while raising five children in poverty. They barely had enough money to buy an egg for dinner back then. She would occasionally go on rants about the poverty she experienced, not that the present was much better. We were still considered poor, but at least we didn't go hungry. She looked tired, and wanted me to run down to the street market and buy some fresh fish for her to cook for dinner.

I clenched the money she gave me and began walking away. She yelled at me to put the money in my pocket so that I don't lose it. I slipped the crumbled bill into my right pocket and walked down the empty street. A feeling of claustrophobia came over me as I stared up at the towering residential buildings on both sides of me. The walk seemed to last longer than usual for some reason, may be it was because of the heat. I stopped at the intersection and glanced to the right to see the busy road I would have to cross in order to get to the open market. A swarm of mopeds and compact cars drove by, seemingly without beginning or end. The sound of motors roared and horns honked. A bus passed by and I could smell the gas, and it smelled good to me. Then the smell quickly faded away. I wondered if I would feel any pain if a car hit me head on, not that I wanted to find out or anything like that. As each second passed as I stood at the edge of the sidewalk, the fear of crossing the busy street grew. I just stood there, dumbfounded, waiting for a sign to cross.

I was standing forever at the edge of the sidewalk and traffic. The sun was merciless. The underarms of my shirt permanently stained with a faint yellow, soon, it would turn to sweat yellow. Then I'd have to go to school wearing a permanently dirty-looking shirt. I thought about it for a few seconds, and wished it wasn't so hot out. I heard noises to my left and it turned out my friends were running over a hill to go swim at the pond. One of them called me to go swim with them, and I just stood there. I couldn't decide whether to risk my life to cross the dangerous street to the right, or to cool my overheated body in the refreshing pond. I thought about my grandmother and then I thought about the busy road. I thought about the fish and then I thought about the pond. My legs began moving my body to the left, and within moments, I was climbing up the hill.

I kicked my sandals off and felt the mud between my toes. I left my shirt on the bushes by the pond. The cool water alleviated all the heat from my body, first from my feet and then from the rest of my body. The sound children laughing and having fun filled this great summer day at the pond. Time flew by quickly as we swam and played. The bottom of the sun barely touched the horizon.
I ventured away from the group and swam towards the middle of the pond. There, I took a deep breath and proceeded to swim underwater. Even though I couldn't see anything, the feeling of floating underwater was beyond description. The water soothed every part of my body; at that moment, I realized the meaning of euphoria. So this was what it felt like to be a fish. Soon after I went under, my lungs quickly forced me to gasp for air. I didn't make it back to the surface in time and ended up swallowing some water. However, the short time underwater was well worth the discomfort of choking on some water.

My body shivered as I got out of the pond. A gust of wind was blowing straight at me. I dried myself with the shirt I originally wore, and then tossed it over my scrawny shoulder. I felt extremely hungry and tired from the long day. I stood atop the hill and saw that the once busy street was much safer to cross now. The traffic had subsided, although I could still hear cars honking.

My hands reached into my right pocket and felt a wet bill, and I realized that the street markets were already closed. That night, I didn't get any fish for dinner.

Page last updated: 4/18/04

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