MMMMMMMPH

currently freaking out about BLUEEEEE essay.

sigh.

need more plot.


inky says (12:35 AM):
i need more plot.
hmm.

♥kai says (12:35 AM):
lols
i have an idea

inky says (12:35 AM):
maybe i can throw in an uncle abusing them

♥kai says (12:35 AM):
about what i wanna write
!!!
UNCLE?!

inky says (12:35 AM):
then that would be good for another few hundred words

♥kai says (12:35 AM):
ABUSE?!

inky says (12:35 AM):
HAHAHAHA


finally shown my morbid side.

take a look at the BLUEEEE.
but i still think its plotless.

-------------------------
I stared at the grey lake. I recalled a memory from a life years ago – a teacher had taught that water reflected the colour of the sky. A normal lake was only blue because the sky was also blue. Blue. That was my favourite colour. A light shade was so carefree, yet a different shade could be more serious. To me, blue signified a kind of freedom, as the sky, a limitless space, full of possibilities, was blue. It was so common, yet so wonderful and rare.

Looking at the dark, foreboding lake, I decided I liked it better when it was the same blue as the sky. A fish had recently disturbed the calm water surface, and ripples were spreading slowly, but steadily. I remembered my mother telling me many years ago, when she was still alive, "A pebble in the water makes a ripple effect; every action will bear a consequence."

Looking at the water again, I noticed the ripples growing fainter and fainter, but they never stopped moving until the tiny wave broke over the sandy shore. I threw myself backwards onto the sand and gazed stonily at the stormy sky and heavy clouds which held much rain, submerged in my own thoughts.

Oh, mother, how could you leave us to fend for ourselves! What have we done to deserve such punishment! I thought sadly. I lay there for a long time, dwelling on numerous past events that had led me here, to my little sandy haven, perhaps for the last time ever.

I remember my brother’s voice, as clear as day, even if I had not heard it in five years. Five years…but it seems like it has only been a few months since my mother passed away. I remember all too clearly the urgency and grief in his voice as he shouted for my mother to wake up, shouted till his voice went hoarse, as me and my sister wept loudly beside him. My lifeless mother lay on her hastily-made mattress of coconut fibers and coconut leaves, her hands cold to the touch, her face as white as snow – or death.

She had contracted malaria a few weeks ago, the infamous ‘poor man’s disease’. The name was certainly apt – we were as poor as people came. My father had spent all our money on drink and gambling, and after we pleaded him not to, he took any remaining valuables and ran away. Our remaining possessions were old and useless, and the only thing left now was a few pots and an old mosquito net. Even though four of us slept under the one mosquito net, there were quite a few holes in it which were probably caused by age.

I blamed myself for her contracting the disease, as my mother had reminded me to mend the holes that day, but I had forgotten all about it and carried on playing with my friends. Busy with taking care of the household and earning money to feed the family, she did not check to see if I had done what I was supposed to, and that night, four of us huddled together under the torn net as usual as we slept peacefully.

The next day, my mother complained of a strange tingling in her skin, but thinking nothing of it, she went to work as usual. By the afternoon, she felt cold and started shivering. However, a few hours later, she had got a fever and was sweating profusely. Worried, my sister paid a visit to the shaman, or resident witch doctor of the village, and had purchased from him, with what little money we had saved, some herbs he claimed would make the evil spirit that had entered my mother’s body go away.

To our dismay, the herbs did not work, and my mother grew steadily more ill. We were at a loss what to do, and visiting the western doctor in the big town was out of the question as there was no money for travel or for more medicine. One day, my mother slipped into a coma, and a few days later, died. When the authorities found out what had happened, they sent me, my brother, and my sister to different orphanages, some in the village, and some in the city. That was the last day I saw my beloved siblings.

Lost in my recollections, I failed to notice that the sky had opened up – the rain was pouring heavily, and the wind was whipping my wet clothes and hair around mercilessly. Only when a bolt of lightning struck a tall coconut tree a distance away did I remember myself and sit up, rubbing water from my eyes. I staggered to a nearby overhang of rock and drew my thin, knobby knees up to my chest, hugging myself for much-needed warmth and protection against the cruel wind and rain. I submerged myself into the haven of my thoughts yet again to prevent myself from feeling the harsh cold.

Wild with grief for my departed mother and siblings, I was rude and uncivil, never listening to the matron’s instructions and behaving in a manner where my mother – if she could see me – would be ashamed of me. Because I was uncontrollable, I was constantly moved from orphanage to orphanage. I kept this behavior up in the hopes that I would meet one of my siblings, but in the five years of living in orphanages, I did not see any trace of them. This caused me to slowly give up hope and after a while, just give in.

After a while, to my delight, I got moved to an orphanage near my old house. On my free day, I went down to the beach, my old hidey-hole, to reminisce about my former life with my siblings and mother.

With a short gasp, I released myself quickly from my thoughts. Unknowingly, I had been daydreaming at the beach for nearly two hours, and the storm had passed on. The sky had returned to a shade of lapis lazuli and so had the lake. As I stood up and wrung the water out of my wet clothes, I glanced at the lake, and then looked intently at it. When the sun glinted off the calm, blue waters, I fancied that I saw my mother’s face, smiling at me, forgiving me.

It only took a few seconds to make a decision. I swam into the lake, creating thousands of little ripples, and many large ones. When I reached the deep part, I thought, here I come, mother. I’m going to join you in heaven. As I sunk into the depths of the lake, I looked up to the beautiful blue sky, and the blue shining waters around me. I sighed with contentment, and watched as the bubbles of my life rose slowly to the surface, tinted with blue.
------

god, you know what?
you can just scroll past all that.

but its the most times i've ever written blue in a compo.
or a paragraph.
sentence?
im not sure i've even used the word blue in a compo.

OHHH!
SURE I HAVE!!!

in those primary school ones!
"the sky was azure blue"!!!

and i also have contracted a disease, it makes me use exclamation marks!

toldja.