Creative Writing Program 2021

SPECIAL THANKS
TO

DR. SAROYA BINTI YAHYA DR. ZILLA SAFARINA
BINTI JA’AFAR

PN. NORZALIMAH BINTI PN. EVELYN GNANAM A/P
MOHD KASSIM WILLIAM GEORGE

E-FLIPBOOK EDITORS

Norkhalidatul Simaa’ Ainin Sofeena Nur Shakila Fatin
Binti Abd Khalil Binti Shamsul Nizam Binti Abdul Sani
2PISMP TESL 3 2PISMP TESL 3
2PISMP TESL 3

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2PISMP TESL 3 Ahmad Khairudi
2PISMP TESL 3

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Short
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The Truth Untold: Red Riding Hood

I

Deep in the woods, there is a village hidden where people lived in peace
and serenity. Well, at least some of them. The myth says the village used
to be a home for the wolves. Both wolves and humans live in harmony
as the wolves pledged that they will never harm the human beings.

These creatures can’t be trusted; the wolves break their promises.
They once promised that they will not cross the line, but they sink their
teeth and claws in human’s flesh. Humans were furious with the wolf’s
act and the war between humans and wolves occurred. The war causes
many deaths, dead bodies were everywhere and their blood flows into
the river until it changes its colour from crystal clear to sanguineous
red.

Ever since that day, the village is called Lupita, which means ‘The
River of The Wolf’. The tragedy was many decades back and it was all in
the past yet, the villagers in Lupita were still living with fear. It was
believed, when the moon is full, the river will change its colour to red
again as a sign that the heir of the wolves will hunt for their prey to
avenge the death of their ancestors. The mystery is, who is the heir?

II

“What buns are for sale today, Janet?” a lady asked when she stopped
by the small bread shop. Janet, the owner of the shop smiled and replied,
“Oh dear, this garlic breads are freshly baked.” The lady passed her basket
to Janet and requested for the garlic breads and baguette. “There you go,
have a nice day!” Janet returned the basket to the lady, now filled with hot
and fresh loaf.

Janet lives in Lupita, owns a small bread shop, and she lived alone
after her husband went missing a few years ago. It was believed that her
husband was killed when he tried to stop the wolf, but she refused to
believe that. The Lord listened to her prayer, to fill her loneliness, she
found a baby left in front of her gate. The baby was found together with a
pendant carved with a name, ‘Loveta’. She adopted the sweet baby girl and
named her Loveta.

As Loveta grew up, her beauty became the talk of the village. With
her silky black hair, pulchritudinous silvery eyes, heart-shaped lips, she
looks like an angel. “Loveta, can you help me? I shall be visiting your
grandmother today but, I need to send this loaf to the market.” Janet
beseeched her daughter when she saw Loveta standing by the kitchen’s
door. “I would never say no, mother.” the obedient Loveta agreed without
any hesitation.

Janet smiled while her hands were grabbing the basket filled with
two baguettes, three apple pies, and four strawberry cupcakes. Whilst
arranging them nicely in the basket, she adjured her daughter, “Bring
these breads to your grandmother, don’t go astray in the woods, be sure to
come home before the night, as…” she have not finished her sentence yet,
Loveta continued “…as the wolf might hunt for its food” Loveta kissed her
mother’s chubby cheeks and leave to go to the grandmother’s house.

III

Janet was sweeping the floor of her kitchen when she suddenly
mesmerized with the breathtaking view of the hue of orange and
vermilion sky that come through her window. Hanging in the willow
branches, smiling at the earth, she smiled alone through the window until
she realized, Loveta is not home yet, and the sun has already set.

Her worries clearly seen in her eyes that her forehead furrowed and
emphasized the wrinkles on her forehead. Her mother’s instinct forced
her to go out to find her daughter but tonight is the wolf’s hunt. “Perhaps
she is accompanying her grandmother”, she whispered in her heart,
trying to comfort herself. Her anxiety would not let her sleep as she kept
tossing and turning all night long.

She would not dare to open the windows, what if the wolf smelt her
scent? She gets out of her bed and walks around the living room while
rubbing her hands repeatedly. Sometimes she would stare at the door
with hopes, someone would knock the door to send her Loveta home. The
night is darker yet, Loveta is nowhere to be seen. Janet fell asleep on the
couch while waiting for Loveta to come home.

IV

Janet woke up to the noises she heard from her door. Someone
was knocking her door with full force that the door might fall into
pieces and her name was called repeatedly. When she opened the door,
it was Riley, the carpenter and together with him are other villagers.
“Janet, we found your mother dead in her cottage. We believed it was
the wolf’s doing”

Janet fell in front of the door, tears rolling down her cheek. She
felt like there was a hole in a heart, she felt like her heart ache really
bad when she received the news. “My daughter? Isn’t she there? Where
is she” Janet raised her voice to the villagers, questioning them with
questions that they could not answer. Riley kneed and hug Janet, “The
wolf probably took her. She is not there”

Janet continued crying, she punched the door, slapped herself,
screaming Loveta’s name. “It was me who causes their death! If only I
don’t bother asking Loveta to go, she would not gone missing!” she
yelled at herself. The villagers tried to calm her. Among the villagers,
someone is watching the heart-breaking scene with a smirk. The
person’s face was covered with a veil, in her right hand, she held
something shiny.

V

Janet stood at the catafalque of her mother’s coffin. Her tears still
falling down her chubby cheeks. She kept blaming herself for the death of
her mother and she lost her one and only daughter. She promised herself
that she would kill the wolf, or the wolf’s heir, or whoever involved.

The calming and soft breeze that touched her cheeks and neck have a
strong scent that reminds Janet to something. She tried to reminisce the
scent so, she closed her eyes to recall her memories. When she opened her
eyes, her hands quickly touched her mother’s cold body and check her
mother’s neck. “Her necklace is not here.”, Janet thought to herself. T

hen, she regained her memories, she remembered that she saw
someone was holding something shiny in the right hand in front of her
house, it was her mother’s silver necklace. The person’s is unclear as the
face is covered with a veil, it was a red veil, no, it was red hood. The smirk,
it was a heart-shaped lips that smirked. This scent, it was her scent.
Loveta’s scent was different when the wolf’s hunt day comes. She is the
wolf’s heir, it was Loveta. The girl that I raised had killed my mother.
Loveta, my Red Riding Hood, is the wolf.

Zulaikha Binti Mohd Zaibudin

2PISMP TESL 1

Permanent Regret

The last conversation I had with my brother was tense. It is something I
wish I could erase – for his and for my own sake.

We are five years apart. I expect my brother to be more matured and
understanding, but that is not the case at all. We literally had the typical
sibling relationship. We annoyed each other, and got in fights. Patience is
what I do best but somehow he always manages to get on my nerves.
Sometimes I fight back. Though most of the times I ignore him – just like
how he did to me back then.

He was in senior year. I was a freshman. Knowing him, I had no clue
as to why he could be so popular in college. I guess it is either because of
his brain or his athletic traits. Personality is out of context because he is
the worst! I still remember the first day I entered the college. Yes, we went
to the same University. He was in charge of registration. As I registered
my name, he pretends as if we did not know each other. Even after I said
‘Hi’ while smiling at him, he pays no attention to me. My smile faded.

Right there and then my anxiety kicks in. I know we are not close.
But I have never imagined that he would treat me like a stranger. One
thing about me is I often overthink. This is because I have an insecurity.
Ever since young I had a sight problem. The doctor diagnosed it as a
sudden vision loss in one eye which was caused by sudden blockage of a
blood vessel. My eyes are differently shaped and the left side are even
smaller and blurry red. People can tell in one glance that I am blind. I am
used to people’s stare, but I am still self-conscious when in public. So I
thought my brother might be ashamed of me. That makes me even
sadder.

Few weeks went by, I rarely see him in college. He was busy doing his
final project and I was busy with tutorials, assignments and stuff. We
might pass by each other coincidentally. Who knows? Well who cares, I
can live without him. Besides, I made new friend. Fatimah is her name.
She approached me first and I am forever grateful for that. She accepts
my flaws and she said she befriended me because she felt comfortable
around me.

Semester break starts. I went home with my brother. He drove us
home that evening. It was a pure silence inside of the car. “Grumpy little
sister”, he whispered. I heard and instinctively I turned my head to him. I
was at my limit. Unconsciously I shouted, “What is your problem?” to
which he replied “Nothing, but can’t you smile a little? Every time I see
you, you always put on that sour face. Why do you have to be so childish?
Would you stop throwing tantrum? You are still in the first year, what’s
the point of being so stressful anyway.”

His words triggered my emotion. It was him who started this first. He
ignored me for months. I know he is perfect. He easily made friends.
Everybody loves him. He belongs to his circle while me, I am invisible. I
screamed at him out of anger “You don’t know how I feel. Life was easy for
you. If it’s not because of you I wouldn’t be blind! You and your stupid
obsession for guns are the reason I live in misery! I wish you are not my
brother! I wish you are dead!” And then suddenly the world turns dark.

My head hurts. I can barely open my eyes. I saw my parents crying.
Am I in heaven already? I took a glance to my right hand. I was given an
IV Drip. Why am I here? I can’t recall coming to the hospital. Last time I
remember I was in the car with my brother. Memories started flooding in.
I asked mum “Where is brother?”. She did not answer but instead she
cried. Harder. Uneasiness crept into my heart. I asked again “What
happened? Where is my brother?” My father told me, “Your brother is no
longer with us.” I was devastated.

Where is my brother?” My father told me, “Your brother is no longer
with us.” I was devastated.

It has been two weeks since brother left us. I do not want him to die. I love
him very much. It was unintentional and I regret because that was the
last words he heard from me. My parents said his last will was to donate
his eye for me. The operation went well, but the guilt is haunting me.

One night I missed him terribly. I went into his room. I discovered
the old photo that I’d never seen before. It was the two of us – him
hugging me and we both smiled. Everything about this piece of paper is
picture-perfect. I looked at the back of the photo and there wrote, “I love
you my little sister! You are the best thing that ever happened to me.” I
broke down in tears because I know for a fact that I could never feel his
embrace anymore.

Ainin Sofiya Binti Abdul Jalil
2PISMP TESL 1

You and I. Forever.

“Can I sit here?” a voice asked. Giselle turned around hastily, thinking the
question was for her or not, then she saw a tall boy in front of her. Mark.
He was, well, different from all others. He was handsome, not perhaps in
the conventional sense, but he had that appearance which could make
him stand out in the crowd. His eyes were as deep and expressive, where
you could get lost if you stare long enough. His smile, which reached up to
his eyes and wrinkled them, flaunted his modesty and humility. “Oh, He
is the boy everyone has been talking about.” Giselle muttered to herself.

“Sure.” She moved to the right to give him a space to sit. Giselle was
confused why he chose to sit beside her when there was empty space in
front of her. “You are Giselle, right?” She was pretty shocked when he
mentioned her name. She gulped. “What if he approached me just to
humiliate me? What if he is one of the bullies?” Giselle quickly stood up
and grabbed her backpack leaving Mark alone and clueless on the bench.

I just want to know you. Mark sighed and went to his classroom.

“Well, it looks like this girl is looking for trouble again.” a voice
boomed. It’s Johnny’s voice. Giselle looked up to meet eyes with Johnny;
he had a smug look on his face. Everyone in the hallway was crowding
them to watch the show. “You want some trouble, girl?” another voice
appeared and this time it’s Tom. The rest of the gang came and blocked
the way.

“Hey. Answer us.” Johnny held my collar. Giselle shook her head
because she didn't want any trouble. Two pairs of hands grabbed her
wrist, it was Karina and Sophie. She tried to resist but they all glared at
her. Johnny harshly grabbed her chin and slapped across her face.

He laughed.

Everyone in the hallway laughed except one person. Mark.

She fought the tears that were threatening to fall. The bell suddenly
rang, signalling the start of the class. Johnny let go of her chin and pushed
her which made her fall. Then, they all walked away and left her alone
except one person.
“Are you okay? Come, let me help you.” Giselle looked up and saw Mark
standing before her. He reached out his hand to help Giselle get up.

And since then, they found comfort in each other and became
friends. Nobody bullied Giselle anymore because Mark always protected
her.

But life isn't always as it seems. Smiles and happiness aren't always
as they appear. Behind this ‘perfect’, ‘smiley’ and ‘protective’ Mark, there's
a hidden secret. Mark was physically, emotionally and verbally abused by
her parents. His parents showed her very little love and affection.

“Are you okay? Come, let me help you.” Giselle looked up and saw Mark
standing before her. He reached out his hand to help Giselle get up.

And since then, they found comfort in each other and became
friends. Nobody bullied Giselle anymore because Mark always protected
her.

But life isn't always as it seems. Smiles and happiness aren't always
as they appear. Behind this ‘perfect’, ‘smiley’ and ‘protective’ Mark, there's
a hidden secret. Mark was physically, emotionally and verbally abused by
her parents. His parents showed her very little love and affection.

“Hey! Why are you coming home so late? Where were you going? You
know that you have to come back before 5 rights?” his mum shouted to
him the moment he opened the door. Mark sighed and went straight to
the kitchen.

“Hey Mark! Why don't you answer me? You really want to get beaten, don't
you?”

This is what Mark had to hear every day. He is a victim of child
abuse. Every day he would get beat by his mum and he had to do all the
chores after class. His mum is a drug addict and his dad only came to see
him once a month after both of them got divorced. He never gets love
from his parents.

That is why Mark approached Giselle first. He knew that Giselle and
him could find comfort in each other because both of them are victims. A
victim of child abuse and a victim of bully.

When Mark first sees her it feels unlike anything he has ever felt.

His heart skips a beat; he can’t get his eyes off her. He tries to stay
calm but he can’t help himself. As he walks down the canteen, he tries not
to stare at her. But he wants to know her. He wants to know everything
about her other than rumour she was being bullied by Johnny and the
gang. That's why he ventured to start the first step by asking to sit next to
Giselle.

They stayed friends until they reached their 20's. Mark worked as a
graphic designer while Giselle worked as a model and they fell in love with
each other. They have a perfect relationship for 3 years but one day Giselle
changed all of a sudden. She was depressed and always pushed Mark
away.

“Love me must be hard for you.” Giselle glanced at Mark, a soft smile on
her face. “I apologized for that.”

“Why? Why would you say that?” Mark asked.

Giselle could only stay silent, knowing that she was no longer happy
like before. She didn't find comfort in Mark anymore.

“Nothing happened.” Giselle shifted her eyes to look out the window as if
her mind was far away from the conversation. Her heart was no longer
present.

Mark had never felt so uncomfortable before with Giselle. He
couldn't help but blurt out, “Don't you still love me?”

Giselle laughed quietly and held Mark's hands. “Yeah, I love you.” She
put on a fake smile on her face to reassure Mark’s feelings. Then, she fell
asleep in her arms.

Mark took every tick of the clock to take in the features of his
woman's face. His eyes traced the baby hair settling just above her
forehead, the bridge of her cute nose, the pressing of her seemingly
perfect shaped lips and the sides of her cheeks that seemed to be painted
with a rosy pleasant color.

“I don't know what has happened to you. I really hope you will open up
your feelings a little bit so I can help you.” Mark whispered softly to
Giselle while gently patting her head. Mark noticed Giselle is not the same
anymore. He can see it in her eyes. Feel it in her tone. When she is happy,
she doesnt stop talking. But now, she has become quieter. Sometimes she
would wake up in the middle of night while feeling anxious and scared.

I hope I can help you. I just want you to be happy. I love you so much. Mark
sighed.

“It’s going to be alright. I will not be in pain anymore after this. I am
sorry, Mark. I'm sorry.” Giselle cries out as she takes one last pill. The pain
was unbearable. Her eyes began to blur and she started losing balance
then she fell but a pair of hands caught her fallen body. He screamed and
cried.

In her last seconds on this earth, Mark whispered, “Goodbye, Giselle.
You did well. You did very well. I’m sorry I'm too late. I hope you are
happy now. I love you so much.”

Giselle smiled because the last thing she saw was his eyes. Her
favourite. And also the last thing she heard was his soft voice. She died
not knowing he loved her, he always did and always will.

“This is for you.” He said, placing a single rose on Giselle’s grave. “You
said you wouldn’t leave me. Maybe it’s my fault. If I had come 1 minute
earlier, you would be in my arms right now.” He said as he gently brushed
his fingers over her headstone.

His heart aches when the memories of them coming back, wishing
she would come back to continue their stream of memories that they
never finished.

“We will meet again, beautiful.” Mark said that softly as he slowly left the
cemetery. To everyone out there who is hurting, it is not a sign of
weakness to ask for help. It is a sign of strength. Strength grows in the
moments when you think you can’t go but you keep going anyway. You are
allowed to feel messed up and inside out. It doesn't mean you are
defective, you are just a human. Even the darkest night will end and the
sun will rise. Life is long, life is beautiful. Don't stop right here because of
these feelings. Live happily and show everyone that your life can be better.

Intan Nursyafiqa Binti Makmar Kadapi
2PISMP TESL 2

Excerpt of a sinful
servant

“Great men are not the ones who marry pious women but choose
ordinary women and guide them to become pious women.”, said
Malik Suleiman when I’m asking him the question, ‘Why did you
choose me?’. I’m shyly smiling hearing his answer. I realize how
jammy I am to have you in my life. The best people come
unexpectedly. “Grant me a righteous spouse, who reminds me of you
Allah, who will elevate my faith, and who will hold my hand In
Jannah.” I think my prayers were answered by God.

That the beginning of my life turns into the most beautiful and
precious moment in my life. From the beginning of our early marriage
until now, he has been patiently showering me with a lot of guidance
and knowledge to shape me into a better person for the world and
akhirah. Hahahahaha, with a lot of patience, this wife of his is as
curious as a cat and keeps asking a lot of questions, “what?, why?,
how?,” that’s some common question I've always asked him.

When I feel down, I decided to take a few minutes to the mosque
near my house and sit at the bench while thinking about my life… I
don’t dare to enter the mosque as I feel like I don’t deserve to be in
there and I also don’t know how to pray or read the Quran. Talk
about religion, my knowledge is zero. Just then, a young man sits
down at the bench on the opposite side of me. He said,

down at the bench on the opposite side of me. He said,
“Assalamualaikum”. I stay silent and look back down at the ground.
After an awkward moment, he accepts the rejection, gets up, and
walks away. This happens a few times but I just ignored him.

Until one day, “So why are you out here with me? I mean, wouldn’t
you rather be inside in the warmth, talking to normal people about
normal things?”

“I’m out here because I want to be”, he said. I nod my head and
then look back at the ground. “Well, can I tell you a story?”

“I’m listening.”, said Malik.

“There is a story of a super rich but the busiest father with a
daughter. The daughter could do anything in the world she wanted
as her father gave love through money. All she needed to do was
pick something and enjoyed it. His daughter follows father’s
footsteps and ends up struggling through life as a spoiled and free
urban lifestyle brat. The daughter was asked, “Why are you the
way you are?” The answer is “Well, it’s because of my father.” One
fine day, the daughter was shocked with bad news about her father
killed in an accident as he was driving while drunk. The daughter
trembled in fear and her face was as pale as death when heard
about this. His father turned into an alcoholic as the business
collapsed due to backbiting business partners.

When the father died, the daughter realized something. Lands can
be reconquered, indeed in the course of a battle, a hill or a certain
plain might trade hands several times. But missed opportunities?
These can never be regained. Moments in time, in culture? They
can never be re-made. One can never return in time to prepare for
what they should have prepared for, no one can ever get back
critical seconds that were wasted out of fear or ego. Napoleon was
brilliant at trading space for time. Sure, you can make these
moves, provided you are giving me the time I need to drill my
troops, or move them to where I want them to be. Yet in life, most
of us are terrible at this. We trade an hour of our life here or
afternoon there like it can be bought back with the few dollars we
were paid for it. The daughter worried how she could save herself
to prepare for the hereafter. She wondered what would happen if
death came first before she repented. The daughter doesn't even
know a single knowledge of religion.

Will we wait for someone to save us, or will we listen to Marcus
Aurelius’s empowering call to “get active in your own rescue, if you
care for yourself at all and do it while you can.” Because sooner or
later, we must put articles like this one aside and take action. No
one can blow our nose for us. The right choices and decisions are.
Who knows how much time you have left, or what awaits us
tomorrow? That was my past… is it surprising? Is it shocking you?”

“Most people don’t get me…They ask me questions like, ‘What’s
your problem?’ or ‘Were you beaten as a child?’ But I never
respond. Because I don’t feel like explaining myself. And I don’t
think they really care anyway. Due to my past, I rarely make eye
contact. Instead, I look down at the ground. Because the ground
is safer. Because unlike people, it expects nothing in return. I do
not have to feel ashamed about my past. The ground just accepts
me for who I am right now.”

As I speak, he listens to every word. And he assimilated the crude
feeling present in the tone of my voice and in the depth of my eyes.

When I finished, I said, “Well, now you know my story. You think
I’m a freak, don’t you?”

“Place your right hand on your chest,” he told me. I did. “Do you
feel something?” he asks.

“Yeah, I feel my heartbeat.”

“Now close your eyes, place both your hands on your face, and
move them around slowly.” I do it. “What do you feel now?” he
asked.

“Well, I feel my eyes, my nose, my mouth… I feel my face.”

“That’s right,” he replied. “However, in contrast to you, stories
don’t have pulses, and they don’t have faces. Because stories are
not alive, they’re not people. They’re just stories.”

I stare into his eyes for a prolonged moment, smile sincerely and
say, “Just stories we live through.”

“Yeah… And stories we learn from. Money is numbers and
numbers never end. If it takes cash to be happy, your search for
happiness won’t ever end. Turn to Allah with sincere repentance! It
may be that your Lord will expiate from your sins, and admit you
into Gardens under which river flows (Paradise)”- Malik.

That’s how I met with my mate, Malik… and we continued to get to
know each other about one year before he decided to marry me.
And he is the one who makes me a better person day by day. I am
fortunate his family accepted me as the way I am. Never judge me
over my past.

He made me learn that happens to us is an objective reality, how
we respond is a subjective choice. The Stoics of which Epictetus
was one would say that we don’t control what befalls us, all we
control are our thoughts and reactions to what happens to us.
Remember that you're defined in this life not by your good luck or
your bad luck, but your reaction to those strokes of fortune. Don’t
let anyone tell you differently.

Unfortunately, the joy and happiness were not too long. It was my
second day on the job. I was sitting in my seemingly gilded cubicle,
overlooking Manhattan, and pinching my right arm to make sure it
was real. I landed an internship at Condé Nast Traveler. Every
aspiring writer I’ve ever known secretly dreamt of

an Anthony Bourdain lifestyle. Travel the world and write about its
most colourful pockets.

When my phone rang, and it was a nurse telling me, Malik had
difficulty breathing and his work partner sent him to hospital. He
didn’t make it. I felt as though the perfectly carpeted floors had
dropped out from under me. Now that I’ve come out the other side,
I realize Malik left me with a hefty stack of teachings. In the end,
life goes on. I’m not sure why he had to leave during the single
most poignant chapter in my life. So, I won’t dwell on that.

Where are you now?

Where are you now?

Where are you now?

Was it all in my fantasy?

Where are you now?

Were you only imaginary?

Alan Walker's song, ‘Faded’ keep, reminds me of my love. Out of
the blue, he is not with me anymore, leaving me hanging to fight
alone with this challenging world. With the loss of my husband, I’ve
also lost my sounding board. All I can glean from that is it’s time to
look within myself and make appropriate assessments. If I can’t
make sound choices with the tools already in my kit, then I hazard
succumbing to anything.

Finally, memories are, perhaps, the solitary thing that cannot be
detracted from us. Will I miss my husband? Every single day. What
can I do in those times? I can open up our suitcase of memories,
pick out my favourite one, and dream about it, talk about it, or write
about it. Maybe I can’t pick up the phone and call him anymore, but
that doesn’t mean he’s gone. Malik will be with me every step of
the way.

No wonder, Malik keeps reminding me that I should not love him so
much because he is human and he can die. Instead of loving him, I
must love Allah the most because He will always be with me
anytime and anywhere. Now, I knew what he meant. The suffering
of connections, attachments and expectations always hurts.

Juvenal once said, the world was not big enough for Alexander the
Great, but a coffin was. The way that a good one liner can humble
even the world’s greatest conqueror. Remember, we are all equals
in death. It makes quick work of all of us, big and small. I carry a
coin in my pocket to remember this, Memento Mori. What Juvenal
reminds us is the same thing that Shakespeare spoke about in
Hamlet:

“Imperious Caesar, dead and turned to clay,

Might stop a hole to keep the wind away.

O’ that that earth which kept the world in awe

Should patch a wall t’ expel the winter's flaws!”

It doesn’t matter how famous you are, how powerful you are, how
rich you are, how much you think you have left to do on this planet,
the same thing happens to all of us, and it can happen when we
least expect it. And afterward we will be wormfood and that’s the
end of it.

Next week, I'm off to Istanbul to explore the art scene. As soon as I
read the email from my editor, I picked up my phone to call hubby.
Then, I understood he’ll never answer my calls again. I rataliated
the tears, got up to make a cup of peppermint tea, and added a
new note to my iPhone named, “Istanbul Packing List.” Wish I
could tell someone the whole story of why I am the way I am. A
sinful servant.

“Balqis…, Balqis…, Nur Balqis!!!…, where are you?” asked
Amanda, Balqis’s bosom friend. We are late to go to airport. Verily
we belong to Allah and verily to Him do we return. Amanda thought
Balqis was sleeping but when she touched her body is cold. Then,
Amanda realized she gone already. And that how Amanda found
her diary that tell about the excerpt of a sinful servant.

“It’s the end of story time! My challenge for you today is to read
the next story. Then come back tomorrow and read the next one.
Give yourself a little extra perspective every day this week. See
how doing so changes your thinking from day to day…” said
Amanda to her student

Student: Miss Brooke, may I ask something.
Amanda: Yes, sure.
Student: In the story Excerpt of a Sinful Servant, Amanda the
bosom friend of Nur Balqis. Is it you? Cause you also name
Amanda.
Amanda: Yes, you guess right. That’s all for now. Class dismissed.
I’ve told the following short stories to my students, readers, and
conference attendees dozens of times over the past decade, and I
usually get thanked for doing so. The people and circumstances
differ slightly every time I tell them, but the core lessons and
narratives are grounded in truth. Nur Balqis, you’re people's
inspiration. I’m proud to have a great friend of yours.

-The End-

BALQIS BINTI CHE MOHAMED ROSOL

2 PISMP TESL 2

TIPS ON MONEY
MANAGEMENT

Money management is the key to ensuring that one's life can
run smoothly. A student needs to know ways to divide their finances
according to needs and wants so they can fulfill commitments in life
such as paying bills, room rent, daily necessities, entertainment and
so on. Furthermore, financial management is vital since it may
safeguard you in the case of an emergency, such as an accident that
necessitates surgery or the financial requirement to complete
assignments or course projects.

Through the appropriate approach, the allowance supplied can
be adequate to meet the requirements during the study without the
need of borrowing money from any party. Therefore, I would like to
share these three money management formulas that can be used as
a guide to students. The very first formula is called 30/10/10. This
formula involves the division of allowance money into four parts,
namely 30%, 30%, 10%and 10%.

The first 30% is for savings and protection. Such provisions
can provide comfort for the future either in terms of emergencies or
future needs. For the second 30% are expenses and needs. For
example, students can use this percentage of money to buy food
and drinks for a month. The third 30% is learning savings where
this money is used for needs in completing coursework, internet,
and stationary assignments. Finally, 10%, can be used for
self-reward. For example, students can buy favorite foods or
desired items at a good sacrifice throughout the month.

The second formula is 50/30/20. It has the same as the
concept with the formula above, but the money is divided
according to different percentages. First, 50%. It is used for basic
expenses such as rent, bills, food, and drink. 30% is for variable
expenses or according to wants rather than needs. For example,
entertainment such as watching movies, clothes, and money for
travel. The third percentage is the future fund of 20%. This 20%
money can be gathered beginning with the first semester of
education and can be utilized during the internship or can be used
to purchase necessary items for the job gained.

Finally, the 90/10 formula. This formula divides the money into
many percentages. 10% is reserved for savings and the remaining
90% is used for the expenditure of necessities or wants. This
formula is useful for developing a high level of responsibility to
guarantee a balance in the use of money because the percentage
division is larger than in the other formulas. Meanwhile, it will
gradually teach users how to save money, lives within their
financial limitations, and reduce their excessive needs that lead to
income exceeding.

To conclude, money management is an effort that needs to be
practiced for long-term needs. Therefore, to be successful in
financial management, it must do so consistently and diligently.
Students can practice any of the formulas that have been
proposed according to their respective needs and budgets. As the
first step, students can practice the ‘Kakeibo method’, a
century-old budgeting technique from Japan, where users need to
write down their monthly income and fixed expenses to track their
spending. Therefore, after knowing your spending pattern, the best
formula can be chosen.

FARAH NATHASHA BINTI MOHAMED HAFIZ

2 PISMP TESL 2

Asian vs Western
Parenting Style

Early years of learning in a child’s life are believed to make a
significant difference in the way they develop and go on to learn
throughout their lives (Kim, 1999). Moreover, parenting is a lifelong
journey through each process. Every parent has a significant part to
nurture their children until they become a decent human being.
Parenting seems to have certain profound variations when compared
between the Western and Asian parts of the globe. That may be due
to the outlook, the culture, the demands, available resources, and
many other factors that influence parenting. It is said that a parenting
style is a psychological concept reached from regular strategies that
parents use while raising their children.

A study by the Student Research Committee of the Iran
University of Medical Science has proven that parenting styles and
emotion regulation strategies could be considered as important
features in predicting borderline personality symptoms. Also, another
research reports that differences in these key features of parenting
can have significant implications for children's development. Thus,
the correct way of parenting is vital in shaping each individual
throughout their growing process.

The western style of parenting is similar to the authoritative style
which is more lenient and permissive. Westerner who usually live
in Europe or North America, tend to let their kids express their
opinions freely. In fact, Western parents tend to behave in a
non-punitive and compassionate way towards the interests and
actions of their children and allow them to manage their behaviour
as much as possible. For example, most western children are
given the freedom to go out for sleepovers and party during high
school. Their parents try to treat them as adults and give a lot of
freedom for them to make decisions for themselves.

Therefore, the children are able to think more creatively due to
the free environment prior to their parents’ upbringing. Thus, such
decision-making provides them with first-hand knowledge and
helps them understand the effects of their actions so that they
learn and become wiser.

Western parents prioritize the growth of children’s abilities
without pressuring them too hard. Western parents also give them
the privilege to choose their desire careers not only in technology
but whichever field possible. The kids are able to do jobs of their
interest with full support from their parents. Moreover, the kids who
are raised with western parenting methods have more freedom to
express themselves so they tend to develop lesser psychological
issues like depression and other anxiety disorders. For example,

a study conducted by Noor A. Rosli on the topic Effect of Parenting
Styles on Children’s Emotional and Behavioural Problems found
that this parenting style can minimize depressive symptoms. Also,
Jackson and Schemes (2005) stated that authoritative parenting
may contribute to less depression among children. Hence, the
Western child is believed to have no psychological issue because
they are not pressured.

In contrast to western parenting, which seems to be more
lenient and permissive, the Asian style of child-rearing is more
authoritarian which is said to be controlling and strict as portrayed
by Amy Chua, the “Tiger Mother” in her book entitled The Battle
Hymn of the Tiger Mother. Asian parents place great emphasis on
the academic result. For instance, if their children get anything less
than an A, then it will be considered a disgrace.

In addition, Asian children will always be given extra practice
sheets to do at home. They won’t be allowed to go out or do
anything else until they finish the practice sheets. To westerners,
this action may look rigorous but, we can’t deny the success of so
many math whizzes and music prodigies among Asian families.
Sometimes, we just need a little push to motivate us to strive more.
There are about 54% of Asians that have a bachelor's degree
compared to just 23% of whites according to research by
Educational Attainment in the United States.

Moreover, A study by Stanford Research found out that Asian
American high schoolers were more likely to talk about their
relationship with their mothers in contrast to European Americans.
Furthermore, they insisted that Asian mothers helped them with
homework and pushed them to succeed. As you can see, this
method not only motivates the children to succeed but also allowed
them to strengthen the bond between the mother and the children.

Contradictory to western parenting, the Asian way of parenting
stressing on interdependence, self-control, emotional, and humility.
For instance, children in the Asian household are known to be
raised with tough love and firm resilience. As a matter of fact, Amy
Chua wrote that she threatened her daughter saying she will burn
her stuffed animals if her daughter fails to master the piano lesson
perfectly. Although the punishment is a bit severe, it manages to
teach her the value of hard work and made it possible for her to
succeed as expressed by her daughter in an interview.

The positive sides of inculcating those values are, the children
will grow into the tough individual to face future ventures and they
will surely not surrender easily. As we all aware, Asian families
embed strong discipline and responsibility in their children by
teaching them to do household chores at a tender age. They will
tend to urge their kids to help washing the dishes, doing the
laundry, and preparing meals on day to day basis. While some find

the duties pretty onerous, a Harvard study that examined the
childhood psychological variables and biological processes
concluded later in life, kids who had chores performed much
better. Hence, those touch of Asian cultural values creates
profound responsibility and higher self-esteem which will contribute
to greater success in school.

Overall, parenting is without a doubt, central to children’s
growth while also reflecting the culture and ethnicity. The
knowledge of parenting styles is fairly important to enhance an
accurate understanding of its objective. Some people may
misinterpret Asian parenting as extremely controlling and harsh,
unlike Western parenting which is more permissive. Undeniably,
there are valid reasons for those actions. The Asian parenting
method includes a unique combination of parental control and
warmth that counter western parenting. Nonetheless, all parents
should play their part well to ensure the best outcome for their
precious children.

LIYANA NAFISAH BINTI KHAIRIL AMINUDDIN

2 PISMP TESL 2

Winter Words, Warm
Memories

Everyone comprehends that death is inevitable, yet it never fails
to take everyone by surprise when it occurs. I squandered my
adolescent years. I had never anticipated in my life that I would
conclude my foundation life at home rather than with my pals. The
clock was ticking, and time passed; I was already in my degree year
of college, dying yet surviving. The situation has deteriorated. People
are becoming used to the new norms. Students are getting out of
their beds and paying attention in the virtual classes; there are no
stupid jokes with their roommates, staying up late completing
coursework, and no physical conversation when executing the
tutorial work. It demonstrates that life will never be the same again,
even once the MCO is lifted, and as we all aware, adjusting to new
norms is difficult for everyone.

It was beautiful to spend time together and watching the
sunset before heading out to dine at a café. Who would have
guessed that a sudden pandemic would rob a regular adolescent
precious moment? Looking back at the photos, we all miss life
before the pandemic. However, what are our options now? This
question lingered in my thoughts. We are all battling to stay alive
and most of the people do not value things unless they become
memories. This pandemic taught me to appreciate things before
they fade into memory. I was the typical adolescent who blamed
the government and the pandemic for the present situation.
However, after performing some self-reflection, I realized that
focusing on what I do not have will constantly upset me. Life is like
a complete cake, and brilliant people will appreciate what they
have rather than grieving for the missing piece.

It is not the time to keep whining. We are in charge of
bettering ourselves in order to be a better person in the future. We
will never achieve perfection since there is always an opportunity
for improvement. However, as we progress toward perfection, we
will learn to be better. It is our job to look for ourselves. Most
importantly, we understand that having a lovely face is not
everything. It is a question of the heart. The pinnacle of
self-actualization is by having a serene soul and mind. Pandemic
truly taught me to look at things from various angles. We have
lived long enough to comprehend the importance of prioritizing
number one. Not only does self-care benefit us, but it also sets an

example for future generations as something to build and sustain
throughout one's life. We must always be nice and courageous in
the face of overwhelming odds. Life is full of twists and turns, and
then there is the inexplicable(s). We are more vital than we realize.
We must live the moment, cherish the present, anticipate the future
and frame the yesteryear. Being joyful does not imply that we are
self-indulgent.

We might feel like our goals and dreams have crumbled due
to this unforeseeable pandemic. We find the pandemic a hindrance
to our plans. We believe our lives would have been different if it
had not been for the virus. Honestly, we did not see this coming,
but He did and always does. Among other lessons, it is time to
realize that life does not always go as planned. It is now made
apparent. The life we live in might not have been predicted two
years ago, yet here we are. We are only a tiny planner, not the
Mightiest one. We overlook, but He does not. Acknowledging that
He has already known and prepared for this to happen might make
us feel better. The sudden pandemic may make us feel like we
have lost control. Furthermore, it is good to feel so. We might have
overestimated the power of our plans in the past. Worry less. It is
time to reset. Life is short. Live. Learn. Laugh.

CHE HIDAYATUL HUSNA BINTI CHE RUZAMAN

2 PISMP TESL 2

MONSTROUS

After I follow the trail of footprints that lead to the woods, I start
questioning myself whether I should just turn back or continue on that
dangerous journey. After all, my mum is going to kill me for doing that if
she finds out I skipped class. I will deal with the consequences later. My
curious mind cannot take the suspense of that incident anymore. Each step I
take, I cautiously look around for it. Sure, I am afraid and I might end up
puking at the end of that trail but I must find that creature that they all have
been looking for.

I wandered into the dark and eerie forest of Eden hill as the howling
echoes through the woods. I kept following the footprints until they came
to a stop. I looked around but I did not see anything, just old leafy trees and
a big tree log in my way. However, as I looked around, I noticed that there
were claw marks on the trunks of the tree and below them are blood strains
from who knows what. The smell of rotten flesh and blood starts going up
my nostrils and I instantly know where I am. Despite the undeniable fear
that is telling me to get out of here, I continued snooping around the area to
find what I have come here to find.

“Suddenly, I heard a deep, angry growl. I was pretty sure that it is not
the howling or growling I heard on my way here because I can literally feel
its heavy breathing at the back of my neck. I know that “it” is right behind
me and that I should be running for my life but my curiosity took over and
I found myself turning behind as large hairy red eyed creature appeared. I
looked up, only to see its ferocious, beast like face. I had a body like
human but it has sharp claws like a wolf. The muscular and tall figure of it
made me look like a dwarf in front of it. The one thing that I found most
intriguing is its blood red eyes that looks as if it was staring into my soul

.
What are you doing here?”, it said in a deep, course tone while
emphasize every word. I shuddered inside but I managed to spit out the
word “Hi”. “Hi” was the best thing I could say at that point seeing that it
might eat my up after our encounter. It walked around me while looking at
me like I was his prey. I squeezed my eyes shut so tight while bracing
myself for the worst. After a few seconds later, I still do not feel my flesh
being torn apart and my bones crushing. Am I already dead? Is this what
heaven feels like?

I opened my eyes and I saw a teenage boy standing in front of me.
Wait, where did it go? The boy approached me and reached out his hands.
“Sorry to startle you. I though you were a hunter. Anyway I’m Razor” said
by the boy. For a second there, I was confused but then it hit me. Razor was
the werewolf I saw. Confused by his behavior, I still shook his hand and
introduced myself.

Razor proceeded to tell me about himself and the rest of his pack. He
was quite a friendly person for a werewolf that eats people but I guess he
was not like what they had said about the others. Apparently, Razor was the
Alpha of his pack, that was why he has red eyes. He also told me that not
all werewolves kill and that he thought that they should be more
responsible. After spending time with him, I found him rather courteous. I
swore to keep his secret as we promised each other that we will stay as
friends forever.

For sixteen years, I was told that werewolves were evil and they killed
just for fun. Today, I have learnt that they are some good ones and that I
should never judge a booj by its cover. Not all monstrous people do
monstrous things!

By:

Cheong Kah Min

2 PISMP MT 1

STANDARDS

Standard has an awkward meaning. In the dictionary, it means a level
of quantity or attainment. Everything seems to have a standard and
everyone has a standard of their own. It is something created by humans,
yet we are chained to it like a flightless bird. Humans worship it mindlessly
by mistaking it as a measurement for "perfection". We are always chasing
the impossible, despite we are long past the "standard" toll. "Greed" was
the mutated seed of "standard" we planted a long time ago, fruited into
illusions of "stereotype" and "perfection". This is a story of a kid living a
"standard" life.

It was just another peaceful morning, a little girl woke up at the crack
of dawn. She was preparing to go to school, while her mom was putting on
makeup for her work. Her mom is an office worker, she wears pretty
makeup, nicely styled hair, neatly ironed blazers, and 2 inches high heels to
work every day.

"Mama, why do you need to wear makeup?"

She has always been curious about it, not understanding why it is
a "necessity" to wear makeup for older women like her mom. Her
mom looks pretty with or without makeup, but she still puts it on every
day. Her mom was too preoccupied with her hair and makeup to look
away, seemed not so satisfied with her makeup. While putting on
another hair clip to fix her hair, the older woman replied, "Well
sweetie, that's just the formality, the beauty standards for office
women."

"Beauty standards?" How does working efficiency relate to beauty
standards?

"Yes sweetie, beauty standards. We live in a society where there's a lot
of standards, you know?" Her mom was finally satisfied with how she
looked, she turned and bent down to talk to her curious little girl, "Do
you like living in standards?"

The little girl scratched her head in confusion, "I don't really
understand what living in standards means, Mama." The older woman
smiled, patted her daughter's head, "Why don't you ask your friends
and teachers at school? We are running late."

Today, she is going to find the meaning of standards. With much
determination in that little girl, she gripped her pencil in class. The
very next second, there was a loud chattering from a group of boys.
She broke out of her thoughts and turned her head to see what may
cause such a ruckus, turned out some boys were talking about games
that were just released yesterday.

"You are boring Bryan! You don't know anything!" A boy with
exaggerated hand movements yelled. A small frown on his face with
disapproval look facing another boy, "Do you not know Fortnight?
Minecraft? Not even Animal crossing?"

The poor boy blanked out at those foreign-sounding names,
gulping nervously, and replied with a shivering voice as if he
committed a crime, "I don't really play games."