Poetry: Drops by Sharmini

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 2.5 Malaysia License.

Poetry: Drops by Sharmini

Name: Sharmini
Pen name: James Dean
Title of Poetry: Drops
Genre: General
Summary: Ever thought there was more to each drop of water from a leaky tap? It keeps dripping and bugs u. That's life and it bites but it's what we have to live through right?


The water drips,
The one continuous motion,
The timing between each,
Perfect,
And then with a turn,
It stops,
Everything it was sure of,
Is now gone,
No regard or the rhythm,
The sounds that were one,
Is the sound that is gone.

©Sharmini2008
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MPH - Alliance Bank National Short Story Prize 2009

Deadline : 31st March 2009
Click HERE to learn more and download the entry form.

Many thanks to our friend Jessica for the heads-up!

Regards,

Alin and June

Story: Terey: Right of Law by Alin

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 2.5 Malaysia License.

Story: Terey: Right of Law by Alin

Name: Alin
Pen name: Catanna
Title of Story: Terey: Right of Law
Genre: Fantasy, Experimental
Summary:Hey Ah Bune! This came to me the other day. This is actually quite experimental, cause it's the first few steps. Try to comment, kays?

It's just a story about a girl trying to enter a city ^_^ This wouldn't be the first time i try to rationalize laws. It's just one of the takes i have with it. Enjoy~



Story: Terey: Right of Law

It was the silence that almost killed her. The absence of everything, the absence of nothing. The faded, the missing and the gone.

Nothing.

She would not miss this chance, Terey thought through gritted teeth.

Her eyes lifted to view the towering man. He was only tall because she lacked the years he had weathered. However, to pounce upon his age would be the wrong mindset to start this odd form of negotiation with. She had to be taken seriously and nothing speaks louder than the determination of brawns.

Her hand touched the hilt of the dagger at her waist then, glanced at the sword on the table. Which to choose?

The sword stood almost as tall as she. Would it be wise to risk her skill in an attempt to win respect?

Her small hands were capable of handling the dagger. It has been in her service for as long as her grip tightened enough on its hilt. The sword was only a manner of courtesy given by a merchant. She supposed he had been amused and gave a simple, black sheathed curved blade in response to a child.

Her training with the sword was limited. She had yet to wield the blade without tipping her balance beyond her form of control. However, the sword would impress them more. Especially when it drags further than their expectation.

She was fortunate. They were men who, perhaps much like the merchant, seemed amused by her actions. A child wishing to penetrate the territory of these hoodlums; her actions are nothing more than a joke. Therefore, their expectation were among the negative regions though her mind singled those who hovered over none. They would watch her carefully, knowing she meant her verbal recitation of her intentions.

One followed her movements as she unsheathed the dagger. His eyes traced the gleaming blade, sloped lines sealed into razor sharp point ingrained into the steel. Then, she felt his eyes slide along the guard, to the weathered piece of leather wrapped around the hilt. Her fingers curled comfortably in ridges worn by usage. His eyes lifted to meet hers, careful calculation in orbs shaded by darkness. Yet, no other was written upon his face, though calm, it definitely was not.

Here’s a dangerous one, she thought knowing his observation drew closer to her capabilities.

These men only wished for control. Allowing one such as her into their city was not the wisest. She was not of the ordinary. Control can only be maintained once a sense of normalcy is established. They had created a world for men and women beyond these walls to live within their constructed form of rule. She, though a child she was, would challenge a Utopia already deemed perfect by these men who do not wish to see the world beyond. To grant her access might incite matters, which they wish not raised.

Therefore, she understood the grounds of mettle she was to be tested in. She was fortunate enough to have chanced upon this bunch rather than the grim, proper, machine-like souls who guarded the other gate.

However, looking at a majority of the crowd, she knew the original reason to be witless. Most of these were men who wished for a slight bout of fun to cap a tiresome watch. They were all coiled much too tightly against a foe they do not understand. The law, they viewed, became simply ‘The Law’ and demanded no form of explanation. Along the lines of its formation, as generation after generation passed, the common actions to abide within this system became the only life of normalcy they knew.

Presently, these men who stood before her, knows nothing of why she was forbidden to enter the city. That failure will result in her gaining admittance in the end. Therefore, that man in this group of five who now followed her very move carefully was a threat.

Well, she would attempt damage control later. Four out of five might be enough. She simply prayed it would not resort to a battle of brains. That, she knew she lay at a great disadvantage.

Her fingers tightened around the dagger, feeling its familiar weight resting on her palm. The steel spanned an inch larger than her hand, yet otherwise, control was still hers.

The man who had insisted he was her foe bounced on his feet to warm his body. He was no big brute of a man, if she was to be fair. Mass was well-distributed throughout his frame without any particular area being preferable. In other words, he was well-rounded in the battle arena, speed, strength and power being of equal value.

She looked into his eyes, goading him for an attack. If he was one with impatience, he would take the bait. He sneered.

“Come here, girly.”

Terey abandoned her position, rushing towards him with wanton care for direction. Her charge landed her in the grip of his hands, where he pushed against the force of her coming. She propelled backwards, loosing her footing and sliding along the forest path until she rested to a stop. The dagger cradled gently by her hands.

Laughter echoed. “Go on, little girl. Try a second time,” cried one.

“Be nice, Perce. We can’t deal with a dead girl,” cautioned another.

The third simply laughed.

Her mind was clear, knowing full well her actions. It would not matter if the motion was repeated once more.

Terey immediately bounced to the balls of her feet and began another charge only to have herself thrown in the opposite direction. Her arms ached where he had grabbed her. However, it was a dull pain. She could live with it. She lifted the dagger before her and rushed.

At the third try, she found herself lifted and the ground rushing much too quickly towards her face. In an instant, she twisted, greeting the ground with an armful of hand before pushing against it. The force of the man’s throw ebbed from his fingers, giving her the opportunity to free herself from his grip and fall into a roll. Her feet braced on the ground, the rest of her body fluidly uncurled into place.

Now she would see.

He was bored. The initial sense of fun had faded with her determination.

Terey pulled her body to calmness.

“Allow me into the city,” she repeated firmly.

Their eyes, now glazed with boredom allowed two forms of action. Either she had whittled their patience to nothingness and would be granted access or she would simply be brushed off. She looked at the last man. He returned her gaze.

“Allow me into the city,” she said once more.

His was the deciding vote.

She could have played this by another hand. Allow herself to be completely beaten and still proceed to stand an exhibit her resolve. To fight and completely dominate the opponent. If these were men of pride, the first would have granted her access. Humility, and it would have been the second. Yet, these were men who do not bear any malice towards her. They were neither, for they are equal of both.

It was a gamble to attempt this way, but, as she rushed, she saw the man studying her with care. He wished to know the reason for her actions, that was for sure.

Terey wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. It came away clean. No part of her was too torn up to bleed. She was whole, though bruises nonetheless spotted her arms and legs with one forming at her side.

She’ll be fine.

“I say let her in,” finally the man answered. His voice was softer than she expected, melodious for one trotting as a soldier in arms. Calculation was absent, only calmness and that awareness towards his surroundings.

What a fascinating man, Terey thought amused.

The others merely shrugged.

“Thank you!” she squealed, allowing the exuberance of her childhood to shine through. She rushed forward and withdrew her sword, beaming with happiness before rushing off in an unknown direction.

Well, she would consider it unknown. As long as her being found itself within the city walls, she had no qualms with the direction or the specific destination. It was only a few steps before she realize company shadowed her movements.

Terey smiled. She knew who it was.

Now, to fight or not to fight?

Another part of her mind coolly noted, later. The city first.

Now that she was on her way, Terey allowed her mind to drift towards the instruction given. It was a simple statement: get into the city; a place so heavily guarded even a child was placed under scrutiny before entering the land. In such circumstances, it was to no surprise she was sent on this task.

However, her teacher, Raiyu had elaborated no further. He had only asked her to enter this fort.

Terey was unfamiliar to the workings of politics, she had to admit. Rather, it was to her preference for a forest to be explored or to search for sweets or something of the least complicated nature rather than an attempt to pierce the thoughts and play with an opponent. She found such activities mundane. She knew her place.

Perhaps it might be the limited understanding she has towards human emotions. She understood anger, fear, fury. She knew happiness, deceit, betrayal. She acknowledges the existence of love and familiarity. She knows doubts. However, when it came to reading her opponents in an attempt to manipulate their emotions, she could only do as much. Her situation with the guards would have been diffused by Raiyu with ease.

He would have entered the grounds without the need to brandish a sword, or to be in pursuit.

Terey sighed. She had much to learn about tact. Charm, she had. As much as a girl of four might, anyway but that sheer penetration of the human mind was something she was incapable of for the moment though she envied those who managed with ease knowing the emotions of those surrounding.

Her feet stepped into the darkness of a silhouette. She looked upwards, seeing the leaning tower hovering to cast a shadow onto the ground. With a great leap, she covered half of the structure, arms full of iron as she braced herself for another jump. The other landed her fully on the roof and she surveyed the sleeping town she was now caged within.

The point she had picked was not the highest. Before daylight sheds the mystery of night, it might be wise for her to seek it, yet not now. She wished to take a moment to calm her heart.

She was arguing with the sash by her waist to accept the sword when she heard the soft sound of feet landing on thatched roof. Terey turned and saw the man from before. He moved fast. Faster than one should in chain mail.

Forgetting about the sash, Terey curled her hand around the sheath and crossed her arms, looking at the man before her. If he moves in a way that grates her instincts, she would draw the sword.

“Who are you?” she asked bluntly.

He looked at her, surprised.

“Funny, that question was mine,” he said easily.

She shifted her weight, giving the look of one dealing with incompetence. Terey knew from experience when received from a child, the result was not at all welcoming. Often it would incite a reaction from Raiyu, though the degree varied upon subject.

She was baiting the devil within him.

And here I thought I hated manipulation, Terey thought.

However, to argue with herself, she would say this is a battle of sorts. The reaction is dependent on the action and much like in a game of chess, she had made the first move.

Still he gave no reply. It fanned her fury though the fire did not raged upon danger.

“I know who you are. You trained once with the Hidden,” she spoke, not realizing the words until they left her mouth. Out in the open, she found she believed them. None other can thread with such ease on uneven ground save those who had toiled for it since birth.

Chance still preyed far from the conclusion, yet, it was impossible to think he had found the way of stealth himself. She had seen the placement of those feet before upon training with her teacher. Rather, they were similar to her own as she had not mastered certain techniques to its precision.

“Oh really?” he asked, the easiness neither trebled nor wavered. “How can that be?”

Terey saw him.

His manner of speaking, the way he stood from his crossed arms to the slight drop of his shoulders and the lidded eyes, peering at her beneath eyelids of caution and the way in which he held himself smaller, grace imbued in every sinew. It was the mannerisms by which a hidden race regarded themselves. It was the way caution was practiced when looking out into the world, fear the absent threat from without. It was the careful way he spoke, melodious yet not overpowering. He was careful to shave his existence into nothing but the slightest of a mark. If she were to look at him carefully, it was not fully him she saw, but the history of what he was.

It was also the way he regarded her with care. None other in this part of the world would even assume a child to be of a threat. He would have to come from somewhere. He would have to come from the outside.

However, for his explanation, she has nothing. What her eyes had taken was deemed as material. They were not the reason he sought after because it was what can be seen. It is common to discard what the eyes accept especially if the eyes are used daily. On the other hand, she was only four. Her observations were doubted by even her, as the world deemed the young to be a foolhardy bunch. She did not understand what she sees.

For his reason, Terey only answered with a shrug. Her instincts had tied him closely with the Hidden and to her, that was enough.

He laughed, an easy laugh that rolled from the pits of his gut. Terey merely looked, unwilling to act the eager child once more. She attempted to harden her muscles and force them in a ready state of action. However, they insisted this man in her company was not of a threat.

She almost cursed when he stopped, eyes looking upon her.

“I am of the Hidden once,” he said. “But I believe the most important information here, little girl is that I am the one you have come to kill.”

Then, he grinned baring canines that gleamed in the moonlight. “Fighter.”

©Alin2008
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Story: Raven's Last Flight by Jaspreet

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 2.5 Malaysia License.

Story: Raven's Last Flight by Jaspreet

Name: Jaspreet
Pen name: -
Title of Story: Raven's Last Flight
Genre: General
Summary: The instantaneous thoughts of a soldier his battle moves from a skirmish, to a fight for his life against his trusted aircraft who had never let anyone down. He might simply be the first.



Story: Raven's Last Flight

As we dropped altitude and closed in on the beachhead, the Spectre groaned as Cowboy banked hard to the left. The call sign suited him well. He always wore an old straw farm hat, and those non-issue chrome plated sunglasses. I could never figure out how he got away with having them. He was always smiling, and he was the best pilot I had ever known.

Tommy the crows nest operator tapped me on the shoulder, and as I turned, I noticed a screen shot of the area we had just passed. He shouted to me over the roar of the cannons.

"Do you recognize this geographic?"

"Yea we just flew by it," I called back to him.

"First CAV is about to get a rude awakening down there. We got Cubans flanking from the left, looks to be 30 or 40 men. The CAV's pinned down hard right now, and the Cubans are closing fast. When we make the next pass, paint the mark."

"Got it," I shouted.

"Remember, we are gonna be in close proximity to the big red one, so make sure you don't hose the whole place down."

"Give me a shout when we reach the mark," I said. I was exhausted from strafing the area with the chain gun. The vibration of the ship melded together with the constant side-to-side motion from the 105 mm howitzer, and the cannon fire could wear a man out in no time. Not to mention that god-awful hole at my feet, a result of the last burst of flak. It was making a horrible sucking sound now, as if it wanted to take my very soul.

Tommy motioned me again and said, "Here goes, sport. Be ready."

I blinked to clear my eyes and peered into the sights of the gun. The ground movement looked like a group of tiny ants marching in unison. It seemed as if they were going to make a single mass movement towards the first CAV. I didn't think they had a clue as to what was in store for them.

Tommy shouted "FIRE!" and I squeezed the trigger. Every seventh round was a tracer, but the Vulcan fires so quickly all you can see is a single arch of red light from its barrel. The frantic movement on the beach instantly stopped.

Tommy said, "You got 'em all man! No movement on FLIR!"

I felt a momentary sickness wash over me. Yes, I knew what they had planned to do. I couldn't let them massacre our people on the ground. My only thoughts were I had just done to them what they had wanted to do to us. I had to forget it. Clear my mind for now.

The Spectre shuddered hard from a violent blast of flak, and the aircraft waffled wildly from side to side. The tail rudder had been hit but the damage was minimal, and the ship slowly regained its posture.

The VOX radio channel crackled, and I heard cowboy tell the control aircraft we were heading to a higher altitude to re fuel. We started to climb and the AC130 moaned loudly. I wondered how much more we could take once we returned to the beach.

The Raven was a late 60's model, and I had no Idea how much combat repair she had undergone during Vietnam. I knew the fuel cells were still weeping from the botched repair at Hulbert Field, and I worried she might split her tanks at any moment.

Silence filled the ship as we rose above the 3000-foot mark. The looks of the faces on board were varied at best. The cannon operators were sweeping shells up, laughing, and joking. Tommy surveyed his information and went over charts with his usual conviction. Tipper, the loadmaster seemed nervous as he looked at various hard mounting points and checked the landing gear. I did some light maintenance on the Vulcan as I crossed myself, thankful I was still alive.

VOX crackled again as the KC135 tanker operator urged Cowboy to hold the Raven as still as possible to avoid a collision. It was plain to see this was not as easy as it sounded. The tail section must have been damaged worse I thought. After some harrowing moments, the connector was uncoupled, and we pulled away.

The Raven banked right and started her descent. If anyone had told me that I would be here 3 days ago, I would have laughed aloud, but it was real, and we were in the thick of it all.

Tipper's voice shattered the silence. "Are you alright Ark?"

"Yea buddy," I said. "I'm just trying to rest a moment and re group before we head back into the storm."

"Ok brother" he said. It looks as if this ol' girl has seen better days."

"What do you mean, Tipper?" I said.

"I think the Raven is damaged worse than any of us realize." he said. "We're leaking hydraulic fluid from the main and secondary cylinders, and I noticed a lot of slack in the tail rudder control wires."

"Thing is Tipper, This bird has never let us down unless you count the fuel cell repairs at Hulbert." I said. "I'm sure if we were in any kind of real trouble, Cowboy would find a nice soft place to set her down."

Tipper smiled and shook his head.

"No place to soft land here, kid." He said.

He headed off towards the rear of the Raven, and left me alone with my thoughts. I hoped he wasn't right, but he always was on this sort of thing. There was no way we could set down on the runway at Salinas. The Cubans still had ground control, and it might be hours or even days before anyone could land there. With all the ordinance we had dropped in that area, it might be damaged so bad that it was impossible to land on the island.

We dropped altitude again and Cowboy circled to the right. I checked the Vulcan and loaded a fresh volley of ammo into the breach. Everyone seemed anxious to get back, and I was worried about the lack of ground support since we had left to refuel. With only two spectre's circling the island, the "Crow" was the only one there at the moment. Sure, one spectre could do a lot of damage, but two were guaranteed to keep the wolves at bay.

We dropped the last few hundred feet and started to circle the island again. Immediately the flak burst and anti aircraft fire lit up the sky all over again. The next few hours seemed to race past as we continued to try to keep the enemy off the backs of our troops on the ground. We took several hits, but managed to stayed air born.

Suddenly I heard ground control's radio message to Cowboy.

"Areca to Raven" the controller said. "The runway is clear for you to land."

I waited for the reply from Cowboy, but there was only silence from the cockpit.

"Areca to Raven" The controller called again. "Do you copy? The runway is clear."

Again, the mic was silent. A million things went through my mind at that moment.

Did Cowboy not hear the radio transmission? Could everyone be dead in the cockpit? What was going on?

I unbuckled my harness and tapped Tommy on the shoulder. "I'm going up topside." I said.

Tommy looked around and said, "Hope everyone's alive up there"

I climbed the crew ladder slowly not knowing what I might find. If they were all dead, we were in a world of trouble. We all had a few hours of flight simulation, in the event that we had to limp home without a pilot but I prayed none of us would have to find ourselves in that position.

I looked around the cabin bulkhead, not wanting to see what I might find. As I looked I was thankful to see them all alive. The co pilot and Cowboy were having trouble controlling the plane and the navigator was frantically pouring over his charts trying to find the right approach to set the Raven down.

Cowboy looked back and saw me standing there, scowling.

"Why the sour look, Ark?" he asked in his usual unconcerned way.

"What the hell is going on up here, Cowboy?" I shouted.

"I ain't gonna lie to you," he said. "We are in a world of shit right now. The outside starboard engine is about to give out, and we've got major prop damage on the rest of them."

I could see that they were doing all they could to try and steer the Raven, but it looked like a loosing battle. We had too much damage, and there was no way we could stay in the air much longer.

At that moment, the engine died, and the prop feathered to a halt. As I looked out the starboard window, I could see the engine smoking lightly. Cowboy hit the extinguisher switch and the smoke dissipated into the slipstream. The prop on the engine was bent and chewed up, as if a huge dog had used it like a chew toy.

"You had better get strapped in back there, Ark." Cowboy said. "We are gonna try and set this big bitch down at Salinas."

I made my way back down the crew ladder and Tommy was standing there waiting for me. I didn't want to tell him or the others, but there was no turning back now.

"What's going on up there?" he asked.

"I gotta tell everyone." I said. "Listen to your headset"

"Listen up guys!" I said as I keyed the mic. "We're done up here. We've lost an engine, and we got major prop and control damage. Everyone needs to secure there weapons and strap in. Looks like we are gonna have to brace for impact at Salinas."

Jack, the new kid that operated the 105mm howitzer, said, "Crash? Damn man you got any good news to tell us?"

"Sorry kid" I said, that's all I got for the moment.

"I didn't sign up for this shit!" he whined.

I secured the Vulcan and buckled myself into the jump seat. I could not believe this was happening. Yesterday I was at Hulbert field happy as hell, and now I was going to crash into some god forsaken Caribbean runway and die in a thousand pieces. I thought about all the things I would miss. I could not believe I wouldn't live to see my son being born. All of this was just too much. I knew Cowboy would do everything he could to set the Raven down in one piece, and freaking out now wouldn't do me any good.

I though about what Para Rescue had done for me. It had taken a small town kid with no real direction, and turned him into a good man. I had learned so much about myself in the last few years, and I was proud to have been a part of all this. If I died and never got to see my son, I hoped someone would survive to tell him that I had tried to make a difference in people's lives. Tell him his dad had died doing what he loved. I hoped he would know that I loved him more than anything and that I had given my life freely so that he could live in peace.

We started our descent towards Salinas's airport. The ground control operator told us that the runway was clear, but that wasn't the case. The sky lit up around us as we rolled into position for the landing. I knew they were doing all they could down there to help us get down in one piece.

"Hold on to your asses!" Tipper cried out. "I can't get the rear landing gear all the way down. This shit is gonna hurt!"

The Raven slammed down hard onto the tarmac. The impact jammed me upwards towards the ceiling, but the jump seat straps held fast. I felt as if I was being compressed into a small box. Cowboy threw the turbo props into full reverse, and the sound was deafening. [At that moment, the nose gear gave way, and the Raven pitched downward towards the ground, the nose gear tore into the asphalt and shook the ship violently.]

"This is it." I thought. "Once the sparks from the gear start hitting those leaky wings, we will burst into flames."

Thankfully, this never happened. The Raven had slowed a bit, but not enough to make a complete stop on the runway. We missed the last stop markers, and plowed into the sand breakers at the end of the runway. The Raven continued along, and the jungle was closing fast in the cabin windows. To this day, I don't know how he did it, but Cowboy pulled up just short of the tree line. The AC130 ground to a screaming halt, and he killed the ships power and switched to auxiliary. The Raven would never fly again.

Cowboy called out "Report in! Is everyone alright back there?"

Everyone had survived the crash, maybe a little banged up, but OK. The emergency lights and warning signals made the inside of the Raven look like a Christmas tree. Cowboy killed all the alarms, and we all got ready to exit the plane.

"There's a lot of gunplay going on out there." Tipper said. "Everyone get their flak jackets on and be ready to run for shelter. Get your game plan ready before I lower the rear hatch!"

Small arms fire was hitting the side of the Raven. We all huddled into the tail section.

Bill, the other howitzer operator was an old veteran to this sort of thing. He looked at me and said, "You want to make it out of here alive?"

"Is that a trick question?" I said

Don't be a smart ass boy!" he said. When the hatch opens, I'm gonna flank right with grazing fire, and Tippers gonna flank left. All of you need to stay low and head straight out the back of the plane. Intelligence told us there is a bunker that we control about sixteen to twenty yards right behind us."

Jack said, "Hey old man, I can fend for myself. I'm gonna run to the left and take cover behind those sheds we saw coming in."

You'll never make it there, kid." Bill said. "You'll get shot before you get ten feet."

"I'll take my chances." Jack said.

"Suit yourself!" Bill said.

"Ark you run as fast as you can towards that bunker," Bill said. "If you do what I tell you, then you'll make it there. We can't loose our only medic."

"You don't have to tell me twice!" I Said. "I got you the first time."

Tipper hit the release mechanism on the tail bulkhead, and the door hydraulics started to whine. This is it, I thought.

All the training and hard work had come down to this moment. I had never been so scared, yet so alive in my life. There was no time left to contemplate any of this. It was time to go. I said a silent prayer as light streamed into the cabin. The bi fold doors opened even wider.

"God, please let me make it home alive."

©Jaspreet2008
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Story: Dance of the Elements by Yin Khuan

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 2.5 Malaysia License.

Story: Dance of the Elements by Yin Khuan

Name: Yin Khuan
Pen name: Lady Lanyara Artemisan
Title of Story: Dance of the Elements
Genre: Fantasy, General
Summary: A man who has given up on the life that he leads finds freedom in the world of Mother Earth... Oneshot story. Sorry if my summary leaves much to be desired.



Story: Dance of the Elements

As I lay spread-eagle upon this empty clearing, I wonder what my life has been about. The endless struggle to live. Meaningless actions repeated since time untold. Those empty faces that showed nought but contempt and envy behind their masks of smiles. How nice to just stop thinking of the world around me. Ah what bliss this feeling is. The snow beneath my hands, the warmth of the winter sun. This mixed experience that opposes yet does not repel. It fills my empty mind with a myriad of feelings and overflows my senses. How wonderful this earth is!

How bright the star above my head shines. A faint sound floats to my hearing. A sweeping pour. A slight crackle. A gentle creaking. An unending whisper. The heat beats down on my face and my vision wavers. The sounds blend in my ear and is it music I hear? The rumbling pour becomes the steady footsteps of little feet dancing. The crackles gently evolve into laughter. The creaking vanishes, and there is song. The whisper raises pitch to become a whistling, then a piping tune. The tree branches that sway in the wind within the range of my vision turn to hands waving to a lively beat. Slender hands of young girls, strong muscled arms of able men, willowy limbs of elderly pairs. All moving in sync to the piping tune. Little feet step together in a sacred dance and voices lift up in song. Voices so clear and pure, untainted by the filth of the world.


Let this tortured soul find peace in rest.

Set free the spirit to fly with us.

Release this mind from the shackles of its wretched realm.

And we’ll claim back this empty shell, battered and bruised.

Be rid of all binds and find freedom at last.

Come join us in our sacred dance, this dance is just for you.

For there is celebration ahead!

A child has returned to us!

A child grown-up but pure once more.

Mother rejoices with the return.

For hark! Mother sheds tears for joy.

Her child has returned~!


It must be raining. Raindrops are falling for sure. For my eyes are wet and Man had long forgotten how to create tears. Man had long lost the ability to see. They have vision but they cannot see.

Let this tortured soul find peace in rest…

My mind feels heavy, my body exhausted. But it is a nice feeling. The steady steps of the dance have a hypnotic feel to it and the music washes over me like a cleansing breath.

Set free the spirit to fly with us…

That sounds nice. To be free and fly away. Maybe I’ll do that. Just spread out my wings and soar with the birds in flight.

Release this mind from the shackles of its wretched realm…

Flying away. Sounds like a dream. But a good dream nonetheless. Soaring in the blue sky overhead. Living as the birds do. Gliding in the wind without a care in the world. Ah what a happy sight below! Sylphs are playing of the pipes while the gnomes and dryads sing and dance in little circles around their homes. Salamanders are laughing at the sight and frolic merrily around. The undines are dancing a pretty pattern around a strange creature in the centre. I wonder why it looks familiar to me…

And we’ll claim back this empty shell, battered and bruised…

Oh well, they beckon me to join them! What fun! Perhaps I’ll play a little tune with the sylphs. They seem like a happy flighty bunch. Oh, the gnomes are moving that poor creature so the undines can dance some more. Odd thing that is. Oh! The dryads tell me it’s my body. Ah well, that hardly matters. They can do as they wish with it. No concern of mine. I just want to sing and fly free with the wind. And perhaps dance a little. A nice sylph said he’ll teach me the steps to the dance the undines are dancing. It’s our turn next. They do this once every time a child returns pure. How wonderful! It’s called the Dance of the Elements.

©YinKhuan2008
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