Hi people!
So hows the story going so far? Anyway, I'll be away in HK for a while and will only be back on the 29th. Hope you guys are still enjoying the extremely long break away from studies (that is, for the poly peeps who start school only in April). Will post part 2 when I get back :D
Jethro.
Tuesday, 21 February 2012
Monday, 20 February 2012
Chapter 10: Expulsion [PART1]
Thunder it must have been, for the sudden inclusion of noise in the room had startled everyone. Their necks craned towards the source, as if they had eyes that could see through the sheer solidity of the door standing in their way.
'Who is it?' Ethan instinctively questioned as he peered nervously back at the pool of blood that by now had flown from the kitchen to the living room, staining the fine marble flooring.
An unsatisfactory answer was given in its cruelest form.
'Who is it?' He asked again.
A creak, and then the screech of metal scraping metal as daylight entered the cold room gradually as the door opened. Shadows of neighbouring houses formed within the house and the smell of industrialisation filled their nostrils. However, it was a rather odd (and partially ridiculous) time to play host to a female guest.
Pedigree, was the first adjective that the gents could keep synonymous with her well-groomed and polished appearance. Bright red lips. Deep blue eyes. Long gold locks. Sparkling black dress of satin. It was as if Algaea herself had been personified into a mortal form. The bright colours that adorned her skin resembled a painting, a masterpiece of sheer magnificent beauty that would have even been able to give life to the dead. Suddenly, the room wasn't so dreary anymore.
'Hello.' She said simply. Her voice clearly nonchalant to the happenings that filled the room barely an hour ago.
'Hello...uh...yes..you are?'
'Im Serena. Serena Kelly.'
'Who is it?' Ethan instinctively questioned as he peered nervously back at the pool of blood that by now had flown from the kitchen to the living room, staining the fine marble flooring.
An unsatisfactory answer was given in its cruelest form.
'Who is it?' He asked again.
A creak, and then the screech of metal scraping metal as daylight entered the cold room gradually as the door opened. Shadows of neighbouring houses formed within the house and the smell of industrialisation filled their nostrils. However, it was a rather odd (and partially ridiculous) time to play host to a female guest.
Pedigree, was the first adjective that the gents could keep synonymous with her well-groomed and polished appearance. Bright red lips. Deep blue eyes. Long gold locks. Sparkling black dress of satin. It was as if Algaea herself had been personified into a mortal form. The bright colours that adorned her skin resembled a painting, a masterpiece of sheer magnificent beauty that would have even been able to give life to the dead. Suddenly, the room wasn't so dreary anymore.
'Hello.' She said simply. Her voice clearly nonchalant to the happenings that filled the room barely an hour ago.
'Hello...uh...yes..you are?'
'Im Serena. Serena Kelly.'
Wednesday, 8 February 2012
Chapter 9: Possession
It was loud. Piercing actually. The sheer volume of the pumping valves of that one man’s heart simply struck terror into everyone. No one spoke as their eyes failed to transmit any of their emotions to their brains to be translated into words. Cold. There was no trace of any intensity, heat or tension that had filled the room just a while ago. Fear, instead, took its place in the minds of each and every one in the room. Consequences, it seemed, was a much harsher reality than the scene that they had created for themselves.
‘Clank!’ a sudden echo from the kitchen resonated.
Silence.
A footstep. Then another. A myriad of non-sequential stomps followed as if each foot were trying to catch up with the other. A shadow was quickly forming and what a sight! Knife in hand, pendant in another, Ethan Goodend stumbled out of the kitchen. Pale. What a face of snow! Bruises adorned his knuckles and his shirt bled velvet. His blade dripped of the same shade and his eyes scanned the room like a tiger looking for its prey.
‘By God! What have you done?’ One member of the suited band asked as his body shook and trembled.
Silence.
One man brave enough for the truth, brushed aside the rest, and charged into the room pompously.
He promptly fled, screaming hysterically at the top of his voice leaving a trail of fresh footprints. Velvet it was and terror it did endorse.
No one it seemed, absolutely no one, was ready for the sight of whatever was in the kitchen. The suited band, seeing that their own peer had left, followed suit in a rather haste and abrupt fashion.
Fortunately, certain innocence spared the twins from the truth of that day and trauma of the highest level wasn’t allowed into their lives that fateful moment.
‘Sit down father.’ Romulus quickly snatched at the nearest chair.
‘At least they’re gone, but what about the man behind?’
‘He is not our concern brother!’
‘I hope he is alright..’
‘I said! He is not our concern!’
Poor Ethan. He was a mess, a bag of nerves. His hollow eyes were rather haunting and he stared into space, with his grip on both the knife and pendant still firm.
‘It’s over boys.’ He suddenly said with disarming confidence.
They looked up at him. What a fatherly figure they thought in their own pubescent way. It was an image that they were to capture for the rest of their lives, an act of selfish goodwill that yet embodied protection and shelter at all costs. He looked at them too with a rather grim knowledge that it’d be the very last act of protection in his known life for them. Ethan teared and closed his eyes half knowing the fate that awaited him. Every muscle tightened, every vein surfaced and he hugged them tightly. He remembered Anne and grief consumed him.
One man dead, One family consequentially torn apart. One exposure to the most extreme action mankind can inflict on another. Fate, however, had dictated to remain consistently cruel. It was adamant on tearing up whatever was left of the Goodends. Like a vulture, it laid in wait to devour the family carcass.
Knock! A pounding at the door had brought their moving embrace to an abrupt standstill.
One man dead, One family consequentially torn apart. One exposure to the most extreme action mankind can inflict on another. Fate, however, had dictated to remain consistently cruel. It was adamant on tearing up whatever was left of the Goodends. Like a vulture, it laid in wait to devour the family carcass.
Knock! A pounding at the door had brought their moving embrace to an abrupt standstill.
Friday, 3 February 2012
Chapter 8: Thunder
Breathes were held and the entire brawl was brought to an abrupt standstill. The silence was deafening as the sudden sight of Ethan Goodend calmly taking each step took them by surprise. His appearance had brought an eerie calm to the storm already brewing, with the clergymen taking a step back away from his bruised and battered son. Then, in a sign of solidarity, he picked Remus up and dusted his shoulders. Tears welled up in his eyes as he felt the fatherly love that he had been robbed of for many years finally bestowed on him once again.
'What's this whole thing about?' he whispered to Remus.
'It's...it's..the pendant.'
Ethan's eyes and expression reflected his shock. The sheer audacity, he thought, to rob a man of his last memory of a woman he had loved all his life. Of course, his thought processes weren't as straightforward as that. Fury was welling up within him and any belief that this man would choose a more diplomatic approach to easing the tension evaporated at that instant. That instant that the light of gold and jewels struck his twisted face. That sheer radiance that sparkled spoke wonders to him. It transported him back years in time to a single moment.
'Do you remember what you said when they were born?' a soft, gentle, but more importantly, feminene voice spoke inside him.
'Yes. Every word. My emotion has never affected my promise.'
'They're hurt Ethan. Torture does not simply manifest in its physical form.'
His eyes close and his lips mutter in inaudible whispers all this while nonplussed to the stench of utter discomfort and fear released by his audience of boys and men. For a second, for a minute they wait. Sweat fills their eyes and they begin to feel the itch and irritation of their awkwardness and inability to counter the rather unprecedented situation they are in.
Suddenly, his eyes open and he looks back at the pendant. He sees a simple metal structure simply protecting a picture.
'Can I, please, have that back?' A rather sincere and meek voice appeals softly.
Silence.
'I would like that back' This time a little bit firmer with a tinge of anger.
Silence.
In that second, the same man that had been pinned down a while ago, was wrestled to the ground once more. The two men fought like ravenous wolves and each man took and gave an equal amount of pain. Smashing plates and cutlery, they announced their arrival into the kitchen. Heartbeats thumped so rapidly and loudly that one could not be faulted to have thought that it was machinery producing those noises. Screams, expletives and gargled grunts were heard as the fight continued. It stretched on like piece of elastic. Stretching to a point of no return, it continued to move in opposite directions as every thread of fibre was pulled to limits unknown. Alas, it snapped. The duet of heartbeats slowed down. Dropping and dropping until only one was heard.
'
'What's this whole thing about?' he whispered to Remus.
'It's...it's..the pendant.'
Ethan's eyes and expression reflected his shock. The sheer audacity, he thought, to rob a man of his last memory of a woman he had loved all his life. Of course, his thought processes weren't as straightforward as that. Fury was welling up within him and any belief that this man would choose a more diplomatic approach to easing the tension evaporated at that instant. That instant that the light of gold and jewels struck his twisted face. That sheer radiance that sparkled spoke wonders to him. It transported him back years in time to a single moment.
'Do you remember what you said when they were born?' a soft, gentle, but more importantly, feminene voice spoke inside him.
'Yes. Every word. My emotion has never affected my promise.'
'They're hurt Ethan. Torture does not simply manifest in its physical form.'
His eyes close and his lips mutter in inaudible whispers all this while nonplussed to the stench of utter discomfort and fear released by his audience of boys and men. For a second, for a minute they wait. Sweat fills their eyes and they begin to feel the itch and irritation of their awkwardness and inability to counter the rather unprecedented situation they are in.
Suddenly, his eyes open and he looks back at the pendant. He sees a simple metal structure simply protecting a picture.
'Can I, please, have that back?' A rather sincere and meek voice appeals softly.
Silence.
'I would like that back' This time a little bit firmer with a tinge of anger.
Silence.
In that second, the same man that had been pinned down a while ago, was wrestled to the ground once more. The two men fought like ravenous wolves and each man took and gave an equal amount of pain. Smashing plates and cutlery, they announced their arrival into the kitchen. Heartbeats thumped so rapidly and loudly that one could not be faulted to have thought that it was machinery producing those noises. Screams, expletives and gargled grunts were heard as the fight continued. It stretched on like piece of elastic. Stretching to a point of no return, it continued to move in opposite directions as every thread of fibre was pulled to limits unknown. Alas, it snapped. The duet of heartbeats slowed down. Dropping and dropping until only one was heard.
'
Thursday, 12 January 2012
Chapter 7: Madness
Stripping the form from the envelope, the twins had their hearts in their mouths. The scent of the exquisite ink used in the document filled the air, as it briefly brought a restraint to the tension already building up within them.
Ever since the strange illness consumed their mother and left her restricted to the four bleak walls of a hospital ward, letters never seemed to carry any spirits of optimism and joy. The Goodends were perpetually being carefully observed under the watchful eyes of schemers and opportunists with shady motives. Like vultures, they circled around them and patiently waited for the hurt family to completely fall apart. Letters, thus, carrying a proposal for a joint investment in rubber plantations or even application forms for subsidised healthcare, were promptly disregarded and chucked away. Pain, seemingly, numbed their senses and blinded them. This painful process brought out the best of their suspicious natures, and with which they safe guarded the welfare of the falling household.
This letter, however, was different.
It was a hand written letter from the provincial authorities. It was the first they have ever encountered. The future as it seems was to be decided on this one form.
Reading it took a lifetime, accepting it took eternity. It seemed as if their lives were being taken away from them. They faced this impending Armageddon on their own, unable to communicate with a drunk of a father. Dark clouds loomed over their heads as they waited for the day to come. The day of reckoning, the day their lives took a drastic change.
Then it came, like a wave, and swept them away.
It happened so quickly and suddenly. Five well dressed men, carrying a stack of bills, were ushered into the Goodend household. Taking it in their stride, Romulus and Remus took it in their stride and tried their very best to be the men of the household, though their age defined and confirmed their lack of maturity.
'Mr Romulus and Mr Remus Goodend?' The first man in the smart attire looked up and asked.
'That be us.' Replied the twins in unison.
Evidence of their disbelief was clearly reflected through raised eyebrows and jaws left hanging.
'Well..we would have you two lads know that your home is under mortgage due to the financial debt owed to the county. As such, the ownership and contents of this house is now under the full jurisdiction of the governing body.'
The words, uttered in clear articulation, delivered the final blow to the boys. They watched helplessly as the clergymen started declaring everything available in the house up for sale. Romulus, upon full realisation of the dire circumstances that his entire household were in, simply could not help but sob tears of bitterness.
'Ah! Whats this!' A clergyman with an eye for great value had exclaimed.
To the horror of the young men, they watched as there in his hand held a locket of pure gold, with its edges adorned with precious stones. Though dusty and rather dirty, the sapphires glistened in the scorching hot summer sun. Opening the locket revealed a photo of a young couple. They were so happy, so truly in love. He sniggered and gave a slight chuckle, as if to ridicule the current predicament that the Goodend's were in.
The crooked man then stealthily dropped it into his side pocket of his blazer. A smile quickly formed on his face as he pondered on the true value of the token of love. Remus, all the while sitting quietly at the corner of the corridor, got up abruptly.
Suddenly, in an act of sheer madness, he charged like a bull towards the man.
Pinning him down, he grabbed the startled man by his collar and shouted with such rage that the house reverberated with his roar.
'That is not yours to take!'
The others were taken aback. Even poor Romulus, was left stunned at the sudden course of actions that his brother had taken.
Recovering from the shock, the man got up and pulled Remus up to his feet. He promptly hit his jaw with a strong right cross. The sudden violence that had erupted worked up the other men and soon they formed a ring around the two. Remus was obviously no match for the well-built clergymen and soon his words were gargled with blood. Just as they were about to clash again, the sound of footsteps brought a sudden hush over the whole boisterous atmosphere. Romulus looked up and behold, someone was descending the stairs.
Ever since the strange illness consumed their mother and left her restricted to the four bleak walls of a hospital ward, letters never seemed to carry any spirits of optimism and joy. The Goodends were perpetually being carefully observed under the watchful eyes of schemers and opportunists with shady motives. Like vultures, they circled around them and patiently waited for the hurt family to completely fall apart. Letters, thus, carrying a proposal for a joint investment in rubber plantations or even application forms for subsidised healthcare, were promptly disregarded and chucked away. Pain, seemingly, numbed their senses and blinded them. This painful process brought out the best of their suspicious natures, and with which they safe guarded the welfare of the falling household.
This letter, however, was different.
It was a hand written letter from the provincial authorities. It was the first they have ever encountered. The future as it seems was to be decided on this one form.
Reading it took a lifetime, accepting it took eternity. It seemed as if their lives were being taken away from them. They faced this impending Armageddon on their own, unable to communicate with a drunk of a father. Dark clouds loomed over their heads as they waited for the day to come. The day of reckoning, the day their lives took a drastic change.
Then it came, like a wave, and swept them away.
It happened so quickly and suddenly. Five well dressed men, carrying a stack of bills, were ushered into the Goodend household. Taking it in their stride, Romulus and Remus took it in their stride and tried their very best to be the men of the household, though their age defined and confirmed their lack of maturity.
'Mr Romulus and Mr Remus Goodend?' The first man in the smart attire looked up and asked.
'That be us.' Replied the twins in unison.
Evidence of their disbelief was clearly reflected through raised eyebrows and jaws left hanging.
'Well..we would have you two lads know that your home is under mortgage due to the financial debt owed to the county. As such, the ownership and contents of this house is now under the full jurisdiction of the governing body.'
The words, uttered in clear articulation, delivered the final blow to the boys. They watched helplessly as the clergymen started declaring everything available in the house up for sale. Romulus, upon full realisation of the dire circumstances that his entire household were in, simply could not help but sob tears of bitterness.
'Ah! Whats this!' A clergyman with an eye for great value had exclaimed.
To the horror of the young men, they watched as there in his hand held a locket of pure gold, with its edges adorned with precious stones. Though dusty and rather dirty, the sapphires glistened in the scorching hot summer sun. Opening the locket revealed a photo of a young couple. They were so happy, so truly in love. He sniggered and gave a slight chuckle, as if to ridicule the current predicament that the Goodend's were in.
The crooked man then stealthily dropped it into his side pocket of his blazer. A smile quickly formed on his face as he pondered on the true value of the token of love. Remus, all the while sitting quietly at the corner of the corridor, got up abruptly.
Suddenly, in an act of sheer madness, he charged like a bull towards the man.
Pinning him down, he grabbed the startled man by his collar and shouted with such rage that the house reverberated with his roar.
'That is not yours to take!'
The others were taken aback. Even poor Romulus, was left stunned at the sudden course of actions that his brother had taken.
Recovering from the shock, the man got up and pulled Remus up to his feet. He promptly hit his jaw with a strong right cross. The sudden violence that had erupted worked up the other men and soon they formed a ring around the two. Remus was obviously no match for the well-built clergymen and soon his words were gargled with blood. Just as they were about to clash again, the sound of footsteps brought a sudden hush over the whole boisterous atmosphere. Romulus looked up and behold, someone was descending the stairs.
Tuesday, 10 January 2012
[!] Update
Hello readers,
Firstly, Im sorry for the massive delay in material release. I've decided that the plot requires some extra touch-ups and also improvement is needed on my part in writing out the story that unfolds. Furthermore, the constant worry of my O Level results hindered efforts severely. I continue to thank and request for your support!
Next, I'm also glad to announce that I'll be taking on a project to write a romance novel. It is my first time and I am excited! Do stay tuned for more details regarding this other upcoming project.
Lastly, I would also like to wish all readers here, albeit a late one, a Happy New Year. Let's live each day as if it was our last and not have any regrets.
P.S Its a promise to you that Chapter 7 WILL be out this week!
Regards!
Jethro
Firstly, Im sorry for the massive delay in material release. I've decided that the plot requires some extra touch-ups and also improvement is needed on my part in writing out the story that unfolds. Furthermore, the constant worry of my O Level results hindered efforts severely. I continue to thank and request for your support!
Next, I'm also glad to announce that I'll be taking on a project to write a romance novel. It is my first time and I am excited! Do stay tuned for more details regarding this other upcoming project.
Lastly, I would also like to wish all readers here, albeit a late one, a Happy New Year. Let's live each day as if it was our last and not have any regrets.
P.S Its a promise to you that Chapter 7 WILL be out this week!
Regards!
Jethro
Tuesday, 27 December 2011
Chapter 6: Shadow
A fine liquid. Discovered during the era of the great Persians, it gradually fulfilled many of men's needs. Its importance has extended beyond its medical purposes to posing as a consumable painkiller, though the latter is but a perception of many in sorrow. And alcohol was to be Ethan's drug and companion.
Night after night, bottles were unloaded from the cellar. 'A fine spirit', Ethan would say to himself before drowning himself in the rich taste of the finely fermented product. The alcohol flowed smoothly down his throat and into his stomach. It burned. It hurt him. It reminded him of the predicament that his wife was going through alone in the hospital.
It carried on for 10 years.
By then, the two infants were already young, fine men. They rose from the ashes of their Father's fall from prominence to once again represent the towns best hope and source of joy. They were, however, completely different lads. Remus, was an academic, who did extremely well in school. Never once was he ever caught without a distinction in his studies. He was also a shrewd young thing who loved to broker many a deal on behalf of his friends. It was such fine profits that helped build a solid foundation for the larger boots he was to fill in time.
Romulus, well, was a talent of sorts as well. Never interested in the lessons and talk of a good education, he taught himself music. On many a school day, he would liven up the town hall with melodies that reflected his melancholy. However, his audience was only able to take from his fine playing, the joy and gladness that burst out from his wonderful playing. His eyes never failed to twinkle and his smile seemed to be etched for eternity and beyond.
Then one day a letter arrived.
Night after night, bottles were unloaded from the cellar. 'A fine spirit', Ethan would say to himself before drowning himself in the rich taste of the finely fermented product. The alcohol flowed smoothly down his throat and into his stomach. It burned. It hurt him. It reminded him of the predicament that his wife was going through alone in the hospital.
It carried on for 10 years.
By then, the two infants were already young, fine men. They rose from the ashes of their Father's fall from prominence to once again represent the towns best hope and source of joy. They were, however, completely different lads. Remus, was an academic, who did extremely well in school. Never once was he ever caught without a distinction in his studies. He was also a shrewd young thing who loved to broker many a deal on behalf of his friends. It was such fine profits that helped build a solid foundation for the larger boots he was to fill in time.
Romulus, well, was a talent of sorts as well. Never interested in the lessons and talk of a good education, he taught himself music. On many a school day, he would liven up the town hall with melodies that reflected his melancholy. However, his audience was only able to take from his fine playing, the joy and gladness that burst out from his wonderful playing. His eyes never failed to twinkle and his smile seemed to be etched for eternity and beyond.
Then one day a letter arrived.
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