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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Friday, December 5, 2008
Story: Dance of the Elements by Yin Khuan
Friday, November 28, 2008
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Update! Of Copyright Issues and Stories v.1
Heys!
It's a little after midnight and here, i bring you our very first update! Yays!
Okay, firstly, we have settled the legal, plagiarism and theft issues the best we could. This is by using the utilities of Copyscape(c) and a Creative Commons License as protection for the users of this website. A more detailed version of the protection provided can be found in the Copyright and Protection section.
We can't stress the importance of reading the Copyright and Protection article enough, as the article shows how KAP is handling the issue. Please give us feedback for your concerns and such in order for us to aid you in our cause.
Secondly, we've started out with one story so far, which is more of a guinea pig, really. We will start posting others up as soon as possible, now that we believe the legal issue has been settled. So, expect more updates in terms of stories!
The website is going smoothly so far and it's all thanks to you for supporting the website! Although, we do admit that there's still some ways to go but we promise the ride would be worth it! =D
We have much more to update but that definitely will not deter us from answering any questions.
Have a great day~
Alin and June
Monday, November 24, 2008
Story: Evening Walk by Alin
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-No Derivative Works 2.5 Malaysia License.
Story: Evening Walk by Alin
Name: Alin
Pen name: Catanna
Title of Story: Evening Walk
Genre: Fiction, General
Summary: Something i wrote in the past. It's a little depressing though, i have to admit. Read it with your own interpretation in mind. Otherwise it won't have any meaning ^_^
Story: Evening Walk
I rose from my cross-legged position on the tiled floor. It used to be done in wood. Yet, of course, civilization, modernization or whatever we choose as the excuse for our competitive nature will probably stick its oar again. We might find ourselves with the marble floor, or if our budget allows, our floors might be fully carpeted in the near future. Then again, the carpet will only raise the already sweltering temperature.
I looked out the window as I folded my ‘telekung’ and ‘sejadah’, tucking them away. The world rolled before me. Not that I can see much of it anyway. With every tree that I see, I viewed hundreds more; dead. Their dry branches were reaching out to the sun.
Nonetheless, it would be a beautiful day for a walk, I sighed. I stepped out the front door and surveyed the world before me. Heat prickled my skin yet, it does not strike as harshly as the midday sun. Yet, what does it matter the time? The day is still hot. The evening air was fresh, or at least, as fresh as one might find in the city.
The sun was sinking far into the west. The view obscured by a wall of concrete though the delicate rays of the sun can be seen over the massive slabs of stone. As I said before, few trees were within sight. I could hear my neighbour screaming at her son. Her words splashed with a large dosage of mandarin. I think he wanted to play with his friends. Radio blasted down the street with some deejay gossiping about another star’s argument with her rival. Catfight. How fascinating. Another debated the alarmingly increasing numbers of homosexual partners flooding the streets. The tinkering sound coming from a construction site echoed on my left. There was no doubt what they were building; another highway to overlap with the already congested road running along civilian houses.
Sighing once again, I began the process of locking my door then proceeded to my gate. Even before the walk, sweat already pooled down my front.
Turning around a corner, I deftly avoided a speeding shuttlecock. The said object landed by my feet. Five boys came rambling down the street as I stooped to pick it up, dropping their own version of a five-man game of badminton.
“Kak!” they called. “Are you alright?” came yells of concern in Malay, the same emotion, written all over their faces. Their voice overlapping one another’s until it seemed like a group of goats bleating in hunger. I laughed in spite of myself.
“I’m alright, not that a single shuttlecock like this can hurt me anyway. You would do to be careful okay? It is not safe to play vigorously on the road. Especially not now, in the evening,” I replied in Malay patting one of the boys on the head. They were used to my antics.
“Yeah, yeah we know that. We are extremely careful in the morning, in the evening, even at night,” said one of the boys.
“Too bad it’s not the same during exams,” remarked another sarcastically. They burst out in laughter only to be interrupted by a call from one of the boy’s mother. The mentioned boy immediately detached himself from the group and ran towards his mother where a conversation in Tamil took place. I would know. I could hear their conversation as the mother was slightly hearing-impaired.
“Well, you can continue on with your game now,” I said, assuring them that I was alright.
“Okay, bye Kak! Have fun on your walk,” they said cheerfully over their shoulders as they walked back to the game site. I watched their retreating backs. Such harmless children.
This world, viewed through the eyes of a child. There are no enemies, only people who had lost their paths. There are no threats, only shadows. Does it hurt to view this world through the eyes of a child? We bravely plunge ourselves into the world of adulthood, leaving pieces and traces of our selves, basking in the glory of entering the ‘grown-up world’. And we take a step forward, and another.
Looking behind me, I see pieces of clothing littering that path; they are pieces of our pretence, the tuffs of hair we had lost; strands of faith, broken branches and dying greens; promises, honour, torn apart. Our hearts are hardened by the journey while our hands are guilty for countless sins. Was it worth it, to walk this far?
I am guilty, as much as you are. Yet, I watch my sins trailing past me, regret and remorse filling my heart to the brim only to be tipped over and washed into the drain.
Shaking my head trying to clear my thoughts, I moved forward. The scenery hardly changed. Save there was an odd house coloured bright pink in the corner. An excellent landmark it will make, much to the embarrassment of their neighbours. Yet, it was a bold colour, a statement in stone claiming their uniqueness. I am happy for them. Finally, after climbing a steep yet small hill I arrived at the park.
Pieces of broken beer bottles bordered a bench. Candy wrappers and discarded pages from newspapers flew with the breeze. What seemed like modern sculpture made of round plastic bags were piled on top of one another sat atop, under and around the rubbish bin. Yet, I could not bring myself to reach out and pick up the sharp pieces of glass glinting dangerously under the dying sun.
I sat on a bench, my heels crushing the pieces of glass. They are nothing, merely pieces of yesterday. At the corner of my eye, I could see the all-familiar no parking zone. As usual, one is always tempted to break the law. A bright yellow Kancil sat right next to the no parking sign. I noticed a policeman passing by. Quite odd to find one of them in this area, really. He caught sight of the vehicle and moved in to execute his job. Another man was making his way towards the car. He was a lean animal. His eyes were boring straight at the policeman daring, provoking. The policeman looked up, summons in hand. His hands shook a little at the aggravating glare. But it was a distinct shiver. One that I doubt Mr. Macho Guy could see. The car sped away after awhile. It was a wise move. Better your pride than your life.
Where does that leave us? I thought closing my eyes. Today’s headlines flooded my thoughts.
I do not dream of a world tomorrow. I dream of the world yesterday. I saw its foundation. I watched it crumble, torn apart by our very own hands. Yet, despite all that professed rural areas that desperately needed to be improved, it was a beautiful green world. I am merely thankful that our essence had not changed. Not that much at least. We are still human. Still capable of emotion. Still a candidate for hope.
From here, the five boys seemed like black dots. Another joined them. It was my neighbour. Thoughts still obscured and innocent, by ten they should be nice and ripe for the picking, their shade a dark grey. Much like the towering slabs of stone. Like the tar covering the earth. Like the emotion of the contaminated sky. By twelve, they would be burnt. The origins of the black soot covering them being the environment.
It amazes me how shallow we have become. How a squabble over a morsel of bread leads to the death of a friend. How hatred and pain, both human emotions sleep on the floor yet greed warms the bed for accommodation. How comfortable our grip on the hilt of a knife is compared to our honour.
Aah, I thought to myself. The Azan is rising, signalling the end of yet another day. I was comforted by the brief reminder of faith. It exists. Rising from the bench I took a step away, my feet grinding the bits of glass. Still, I dared not pick up the pieces.
©Alin2008
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