It is yet another morning and another fight. The husband and the wife, both dressed up for work, stand still in a modern well-polished kitchen. The silvery chrome surface glows, reflecting both tight expression. There is an incredible loathing looks in both eyes. Both are clinging to this modern day Medusa-gaze, hoping at one point they can turn each other to stone and silence them forever.
“If you want to leave me, then I won’t hold you back” the husband coldly said.
“Herman!” the wife countered in a high-shrilled whispered “What is wrong with you! it was just about a box of milk!”
“No, it’s not. Not when the milk evolved into a reason for you to trash about me being a failure in my past relationship”
“Herman!” she hissed dangerously, before opened her mouth in awe, trying to grasp for words.

Herman
His name is Herman Baker. A man of great posture, with a fine taste in clothing. Always smells nice, a fragrance which is probably a mixture of fresh, warm woody perfume with a tint of aftershave. A fine gentleman of almost forty years old. Not too handsome, but always have a charming smile. His eyes always gaze attentively as he was talking to someone. A man of great intelligence, with a calm and subtle manner. Nobody can ever get enough of him. He converse as good as he listens. He know what to say and when. His witty sense of humor is imbued with flatters here and there.

Mr. Baker run his own company. An internationally acclaimed architecture bureau, which has offices in almost the three-quarter of the world. Flying almost monthly to Paris, London, California, Bangkok, Seoul, and Dubai, he never stays for more than three months in one place because of his demanding job. Still, a lot of people envy him for what he does. Especially, since Mr. Baker is also a type of person who are able to get what he wants, when he wants it. Not only because he can afford anything that he wants, but he is also a person who will always able to charm his way through and Herman Baker has been able to get away with almost everything.

Seventeen times he has been married. All legal, none of them were successful. The first wife divorced him in rage, the second wife divorced him out of boredom, the third and fourth wives whom he married at the same time, decided that polygamy weren’t exactly for them, the fifth wife, the beauty of the lot has left him for a milkman. He barely remember his sixth wife, but he knew too well that the seventh one was too young to get married. Her screaming will eternally echoed in his head, each hysterical scream on every events. This time, he decided for her, that a divorce will be necessary.

His eighth wasn’t really extraordinary, a simple woman with a simple needs. Herman wanted more, which leads to another divorce. His ninth was a wild cat, a woman that jumps around, clawing for attention and left him as soon as he gave her exactly what she asked. This time divorce was mutual consent. The tenth, eleventh and twelfth were sisters. A case of snowball went bad. The thirteenth was an extremely giggly person. Even when he handed her the divorce papers. The fourteenth was older than him. A wise woman, who gets everything right, save for choosing a husband. In the end, she realized her mistake and by then, sent him the divorce paper. The fifteenth, a very frail soul, passed away not long after the marriage. The sixteenth was a widow with three children. The children hates him, and being a good mother, she listened to them.

still 6000 words to come..

message from the sponsor: for christmas gift, perfumes and watches are recommended. Why I mentioned this? because the TV has been flocked with i-will-never-get-it perfume ads and DON’T TOUCH MY BREIL!!
cih.

“I think each girl deserves to be respected” She picked up a lingerie, with a big woman posing in its wrapper.
“I mean, everyone is beautiful. Would you just look at her?” she shoved the package under my nose. I examine the cover with an air of huge interest and curiosity.

The woman in the package must be somewhere in my size range, probably a bit more to the XL side. She has a long, blond, wavy hair, touching her shoulder. To be honest, her should-have-been sexy pose, looks more like an awkward stand. But the black lingerie that she was posing in, actually strengthen her curves, teasing men’s desire with her voluptuous “assets”.

I lift my head and nods.
“She is a bit heavy at the bottom, but yes, she looks attractive” I said to her. She looks at me, unconvinced by my answer.
“Don’t you think so too, Vi? Women should be respected, no matter how they looked?” again she asked me, as we are browsing through lingerie. I mumbled in agreement, just to give her a temporary answer. In fact, I am still thinking about the correct answer. Not that I am being political.

But there is something in this red lighted, pheromone stuffed sex-shop that can’t get me to think. Now and then the buzzing vibrator, moving around wildly in their display, distracts me. A group of guys, trying to look casual, as they are browsing through the porn collections, has manage to look completely the opposite. Couples, who came in, looking utterly confused and after a few minutes starts to giggles shyly. A whole world whole of taboo and pleasure, filled with human exploding curiosity, which in return exposing their deepest secrets.

“Ladies, can I help you?” suddenly a friendly voice came from behind. I looked around to find a sweet-looking shop manager greeted us with a huge grin plastered on his face. I can’t help but blushed furiously and giggle.
“Mmm…” I watched as she is considering the shop manager. Her brows are tied together, thinking hard, as if she is doubting whether her request will be appropriate.
“Maybe for this blushing young lady? In case she gets lonely?” he looked at me, gesturing a rack full of various shape dildo. Oh God.
“Oh, ahum, I wasn’t..” I stopped to find another word to….I don’t know what I am trying to do actually. My brain is absolutely intoxicated by the heavy pheromone.
“She isn’t looking for anything..” I looked at May, and she is throwing a cold look at the manager. A minute went by in an awkward silence.
“You ladies have fun, I will be right there when you need me” the shop manager finally break the silence with a somewhat forced cheeriness. We politely thanked him, spent another round in the shop, before walking to the exit.

We quickly join the huge crowds of the eager shopper. Most of them are navigating in a hurry, clutching shopping bags in both hands. But somehow, having just came out from the sex shop, I am feeling relieved that I didn’t bring any bags with me.

“I think all girls looks beautiful and desirable, no matter what size they are” again she exclaimed to me, cutting straight to my thought.

I fell into silence, and reverted my glance to her. Her long, silky-black hair, is peeking under her gray cute hat. Her big round eyes, compliments her entire face. Her lips are of the blossoming pink. Her figure sculptured excellently to an hour-glass shaped.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Ugly is a common consensus. But she, I have no doubt, will have the common consensus of “beauty”.

But the world isn’t only divided into beauty and ugly, isn’t? A little voice whispers in my head. The world has many adjectives. Big, small, cute, hairy, sexy, pretty, intelligent, witty, charming, interesting, attractive. It is the many exploration of the human, categorization and characterization that defines a person.

And then, as we explores these adjectives to actually “get” a person, we will narrow it down. To a single word that describes the result of our judgment. “Beauty” or “Ugly”. By coming to the conclusion, we have also single out, each positive (and even negative) characteristics that were found during the exploration.

A pity. A very deep pity.

Suddenly I feel miserable, and hungry.

“May, I am hungry” I told her. She giggled and look at me lovingly.
“I thought you are on a diet because you are now wearing Ls?” teased her.
“Ah screw it!” casually I replied.

Hand in hand, we walked to join the queue in McDonalds.

with special thanks to Mrs.Ratsutekuzo Putera

monday, oh was it monday?
when we met her, and i saw the corner of your lips twitched…
oh? was it a smile?

tuesday, yes I remember it was tuesday,
you told me that you would be late,
and I should not wait,

wednesday, wednesday,
I wonder what a small world it is,
when I saw her again, looking carelessly lovely

ref-1:
aah, i wonder, i wonder,
what do you think of she?
don’t tell me, do tell me,
i don’t care, i do care,
did you compaa..aa..re?

thursday, oh yes, it was thursday,
when the clock tick-tocks to midnight
you weren’t home still, and it didn’t feel right..

friday, you promised you’d be on time,
we’d go out and dance under the moonshine,
and i thought finally it’ll be fine,
but, aye, you committed the same crime!

ref-2:
aah, i wonder, i wonder,
did you think of she?
don’t tell me, do tell me,
i don’t care, i do care,
will she finally fare?

saturday finally came, nothing will be in our way,
candlelight and dinner, a romantic weekend gateway,,
but why that longing gaze to the nokia?

and wouwuow..today is sunday,
the days seems to slipped away,
just as I slipped away from your mind,

ref-3:
aah, i wonder, i wonder,
did you think of she?
don’t tell me, do tell me,
i don’t care, i do care,
did you have an affair?

bridge:
baby, please tell me..
have I been blind?
have I been unkind?
have I put on weight to my behind??

oooohhhhhhh…..

back to ref-3

Is this how it sounds?

I can hear it echoed in every string of the violin,
a grave melody of your shattered heart

And tears are running down my cheeks.

Were there tears in your eyes?
Did you hear the cracking and shattering noises of your broken heart?

Was it painful?

Was it like this?

The never ending darkness and silence,
cold air and suffocating mist,

Is this how you feel?

Like how i feel, …now?

Once I melted, there will be no more me.
Only a ghost,
a ghost in your memory,

Keep me safe, keep me safe,
keep me safe inside your thoughts

Keep me safe, for there will be no more me.

inspired by Ulma, Kopet and Olafur

It must have been almost three years since the last time I met her.

We were hardcore feminist, although my reasons on supporting the cause is debatable. I was 22, as was she. We parade, we made speech, we devoted our sleepless night to spread the word, the idealism of “The Women of the Future”.

Because Women has so much more to offer!

Women must gain control of their own life!

Despite the contrast, we succeeded in sending a number of married young girls back to school. We (somehow) managed in convincing them that juggling between their study and a 3-years old infant would be a wise thing to do. All it takes just a large amount of determination. Which in a way, is true.

Two years after the campaign, she finally found an organization which offers full funding for our feminine movement. The same day, I announced my marriage, and she, in return, stopped talking to me. She even refused to see me, when I proudly say I am going to be a “full time housewife and mother”

I never blamed her. I know that for her, I was betraying the principal.

This is why I was surprised and excited, when she showed up in my front door this morning, wearing her apologetic smile. Without a singe question, I hugged her and we instantly catch up on all the things that were missing.

“How did you manage?” she finally asked me. We are sitting in my chaotic living room. I was desperately trying to make it presentable by running around in my guest’s presence. My 8 months-old-twin has been a handful since they discover other rooms in the house.

“You mean living as a full time mother?” I look up at her, throwing the last bit of a lego in the floor to the basket. She nodded,

“It’s not difficult to be devoted if you love what you are doing” I continued.

“Mmm..” she uttered her doubts.

“You know how people love their job, right? Doesn’t matter if they didn’t earn much, they still love what they are doing. That is also my case. I love being a mother, and I love doing household chores.”

“But, isn’t…you know…dull and boring? You know how those housewives are. In the end they would gossips all day, watch soaps, spending their husband’s cash. They don’t even know how it feel to earn and spend their own cash. It’s like….oh I dunno…” she stopped to emphasize her next statement “It’s like having no life..”

“It doesn’t mean you have to be like that. There are tons of activities you can do. You can read book, watch news, volunteering.” I recounted my own activities to her, half agitated with her remarks. “Wrote a blog, and getting paid for it. Once in a while visits the family”

“But..the brain dead..”

“It only happens when you allow them to die! There are tons of things you can do to keep it alive!” I look at
her, and for once, I recognize the persistence that I always had, “It’s about choices and having control on your own life, remember? You can be everything that you have chosen to become. A brain-dead-nothing-to-do-housewife, an intelligent mother who raised future experts, an ambitious top executive, or even a topless model with an IQ of 300. It’s your choice, and no one else get to decide, but you!”

She was taken aback by my words, I could tell. It never came across her mind, that I actually lived by our principal. Every woman has the right to choose.

My choice is to be a devoted wife and a loving mother. And nothing, could ever change the decision I have made.

One week after our conversation, I found her picture in a magazine. Topless.

I really wonder where did she get the idea.

The more you try to stay
The more I let you go
From one too many things a girl shouldnt know
I swear I never knew
I could hurt you so
One too many things a girl shouldnt know

Naughty girl – Holly Valance

Some things are better left unsaid,
better left unsaid,
better left unsaid

Some memories are better tucked away.
better tucked away.
better tucked away.

Hidden in the corner,
far from the reach.
Hidden in the corner,
away from my reach.

This is another piece that I’ve written, but I’ve never published.
I missed writing, to be honest.
Lately my writing skill has decreased, plus it is lacking of the feel and the intensity I used to have.
Is it because nowadays I expressed them in real life, rather than in my writing?
Enjoy.

It was the third time for this week. My phone rang and I couldn’t reach it.
I knew who called. And more than anything in this world, I would love to pick it up.

But my dear husband was standing opposite me. His eyes embraces my every move with love.
His warm breath filled with lusts. I kissed him airily, while my thoughts fixed on my cellphone.

I could imagine the caller long and lean fingers on the phone, dancing merrily across my skin. The aroma of sweet tobacco and his after-shave. The piercing eyes, cold and empty. But as soon as we kissed, everything melts. He and I.

And dear husband, is a mere vague figure. The sacred promise, the once fiery love engraved in a platinum ring is soon forgotten. Tossed between my lingerie, hidden beneath his underwear.

It is not because I don’t love my husband. He is a good guy. He never fails to meet the obligation as the sole provider and a great lover, plus he is handsome and well built. Any women couldn’t dream of any guy better than him. Except me, of course, who thought of his bestfriend as a better choice.

We met at this party. My husband were busy, smooching around. Hours passed and I chose to retreat to a the hidden corner, completely exhausted by the dilly dally and false laughter. Tucked safely inside my sanctuary, I started to look around, in search for something to amuse myself. Some guys were standing not far from me, laughing. He was among them. Handsome, cold and tall. The two last thing that separates him from my husband.

Five minutes had passed, still I didn’t take my eyes of him. I never thought he could look that charming. His
smile are worth every second. Those sweet rare smile. I remember, he stopped laughing and slowly moved his head towards me. We exchange looks. My skin prickles, my heart gave a sudden jolt and I cannot breath. I froze, while he walks right to me.

And he kissed me. Confused, afraid, amused, butterfly all over my stomach and my head, yet I returned his kissed hungrily.

Two days later I yelled at him on the phone.

“I cannot do this. You are my husband’s bestfriend!”

“Do you really think I wanted this feeling? You think I am yearning to feel something for you? Damn it! I had a perfect life before this. AND NONE OF IT INCLUDES YOU!”

We yelled at each other for two hours and a half. The next two hours I spent by kissing him, stroking his brown hair, and gazing into his deep dark eyes. His strong arms wrapped tightly around me, while his lips told me his deepest secret.

Now, nine months later, I am torn between my husband and my cellphone. As soon as he retreats to bed, I snatch my phone and run to the porch.

“Hey”

“Leave him” he said from the other end. I bite my lip.

“You know I cant. He’ll be ruined”

“Leave him” nothing changed in his voice tone. Cold and flat.

“You know I cant”

“I love you”

“I know” My eyes are teary.

“We can’t do this forever, you know” I told him after a long pause.

“I dont need to do this forever. Just until the day you left him.” still the same cold and flat tone.

I cried. I could still hear he hang the phone up. Good Lord, why me?

title : courtesy of ulm

I wrote this piece on June, 25th 2008. I was spraying too much bodyshop’s eau de cologne.

I’ve had enough.

Ever since they made her as a part of the team, everything has become a huge mess.
A chaos.
A complete disaster.

And she, as if everything is still in order, innocently continue to do her works. Without the slightest effort to try and understand the impact of her presence to team productivity. We have become less and less productive ever since she joined.

I have to talk to her and set everything straight.
To gain control of the team, just like before.

“I can’t work with you. You are a distraction.” I exclaimed.

Her eyes widen upon hearing the unexpected statement. Her hand freezes in the air, clutching to the archive that she intended to store in her desk.

“You are pretty, intelligent..” I stopped, and quietly inhales her wonderful fresh smell, before continuing “and you smell like an orange..”
And I love you. Oh..how I love you.
You distracts me. You ruin my concentration.
but I love you.
I love you. I love you. I love you.

Her pretty mouth gasping for a good comeback line, but all I can hear is a faint,

“What?”

“Are you up for lunch?”
I don’t care, I don’t even care if you say no.
You’ve been torturing me for the past months,
ripping my hearts to pieces,
I don’t care.
Let’s just get over and finish this.
So that I could kill myself and rest peacefully behind the shadow of your smile.

But please, say yes..

“Yeah..” she managed to answer weakly.

I smirked and turn away from her desk. It wasn’t as bad as imagined it would be.

Until her clear ringing voice called me from behind, sending my heart into another throbbing attack.

“Its not orange. It’s Lemon”

They are sitting side by side, but not close to each other.

One dresses handsomely, with a dark blue coat, white shirt and an expensive looking jeans.
The other one, the one who now and then inhales the nicotine roll in his hand, looks a lot more casual.
A red t-shirt and a worn-out jeans.

“Cigs?” said the casual one. The handsome one replies with a subtle look of disgust, before saying,

“No, thank you”

The casual one shrugs, and continue gazing at the view in front of them. The night slowly crawls, the sky become a bit more clear. The moon moves lazily behind the distant silhouette of the mountains. Stars are twinkling happily in heaven. And maybe that bitch as well.

That is, if she’s not too busy flirting with the devil in hell.

One tender loving, adorable, wonderful bitch, she is. Both guys knew that too well. Both has been completely head over heel about her. Both has great plans for her. Both has learn to accept and deal with her unexpected outbursts. And, both has failed miserably to keep her. Her free spirit left the casual one, in search for the handsome one. When she found the handsome one, she settled for a bit, before wind carried her away from him.

The same cold wind now slaps both men on the cheeks.

“I always thought she loves you”

“She was”

“She left me for you..”

This time the handsome one raises his head, challenges the other eyes with a pitiful look and a slight hint of cockiness. It is the kind of look to emphasize the point, that it was an obvious choice, between handsome and casual.

“I loved her” said the handsome one instead.

“I still love her” he corrected himself, before the casual one had the chance to say anything.

A moment of silent, broken by a long sigh.

“and I too..” replied the casual one, full of regret.

Both, unconsciously, casts their eyes to the bottom of the cliff, where the beloved body lies. They know for sure they will miss her. Her strong will and her positive energy. She hold on to it even when she was hanging single-handedly on the cliff. One hand cling on her new love, whom she’s trying so hard to rescue. The new guy, tried to comfort her, constantly whispered in a very calm reassuring tone,

“It’s going to be alright, honey..”

“Yes it is.”

And she smiled. Oh, how the other two long for that sweet loving smile of her. How it hurts them so bad to see how peaceful she is, when she rested her eyes on his. How the new guy mouthed “I love you” in return and tighten his grip to her hand. How overwhelmingly disgusting their love is.

So the handsome one took out his rifle, shot the guy in the head. The casual one furiously stepped on the bitch hand. She didn’t scream, only a sudden flash of sadness filled her eyes, before wind took her body, smashed it mercilessly against the cliff.

And then, both guys sat on the edge of the cliff, side by side. A pack of cigarette keep the distance between them. Both are trying to forget. That sweet scent, that smile, and that face.

The face of the only woman that they will ever loved.

Prologue

It must be almost midnight when my door bell rang. Half asleep, but trying to move as quickly as possible, I managed to knock down my alarm clock, and the table where it stand. Cursing silently, I put on my slippers and dashed to the front door.

Again, the bell rang. Wondering who might be that impatient impolite midnight guest is, I shouted with a croaked voice.

“Yes Yes. I’m coming.”

I rushes to get the front-door key out of the its place, when another series of bell-ringing starts again. It seriously have gotten into my nerves.

“YES! I AM COMING!”

I turn the key and opened the door. Only to found that the guest who rang the bell, has left me completely speechles.

“Hello.” it says.

Now I say “it”, because it can’t be human. It is not an animal as well, since “it” has said hello to me. It is not an alien creature as well, because, for all I know, in my doorstep, there stood a white fluffy rabbit holding a flashy pink umbrella.

And “It” smiled at me.

“Ahum..” said the rabbit in a very important tone “I am here to grant you this umbrella”

Dumbfounded, I only stare at the rabbit, who in turn blushes so bad, that even its white round tail slowly picking the color red.

“Please don’t stare…” the rabbit told me in a whisper “It made me blush, and when i blushed, i will explode.”

I can’t stop myself from staring, of course. The rabbit is so cute, with the pinky shade all over him. His little nose is wiggling ups and downs. It was too cute to be true.

Before I realized, a loud “puff” suddenly came from where the rabbit was standing. The rabbit has gone (or, possibly, exploded from all the blushing), leaving only the pink umbrella.

Without notes. Without warning. Nothing.

Just the Flashy Pink Umbrella.

to be continued…