102 creative sparks a collection of creative writing by EPTS 103
of entry. I could still see a small crowd said that it didn’t matter because Kim well, if no demonstrations canceled it
gathering where he had just been. I took would be in some sort of special waiting of course! This incident has taught me
off again in the direction he must have area anyway. So we went into the Thai this valuable lesson and I will remember
gone. However, he was nowhere in Airways lounge instead and took some it for as long as I can, for I cannot
sight. I thought to myself that he might rest. possibly forget the day I actually
be provided the airport’s special care, We came out an hour later to take wanted to punch myself in the face for
so he might have gone down some our flight, only to be shocked by the being so unlucky. Can I?
secret path that was more convenient conversations the janitors were making
for a superstar like him. I went back to outside.
my family with despair and frustration “He was so handsome, that Korean
on my face. This was the second time star,” one said.
I missed him by chance. However, it “Lucky I took a video of him. I’m
wasn’t the last. definitely showing this to my sister at
The third and last time was the home,” said the other, holding her
most regrettable one. After knowing phone.
that I couldn’t meet him anymore, my He was in that Asiana Airlines
family and I went to wait for our flight lounge after all! If we had gone in, I
in the lounging area. We were going to would have gotten to talk to him
the Thai Airways lounge when we personally! Or, if we had come out a bit
passed the lounge that was for the sooner, we would have met him! All I
passengers of Asiana Airlines, the could think was: Why was I so unlucky?
airline that Kim would be taking to They say that the best way to meet
South Korea. My father mentioned that a star is through a concert. You will
we all had a pass for this lounge, but I definitely meet him no matter what,
104 creative sparks a collection of creative writing by EPTS 105
TIME FLIES
(IT REALLY DOES)
: SUPITSARA PATTARASINMANO, NUTCHA AROONPAIRODJANAKUL and SIRADA TRITRUENGTASSANA
: NATJANAN MONGKOLSUPAWAN
It’s a beautiful summer day. With his teacher interrupts his train of
the sun out, the clear blue sky, the soft, thoughts.
cool breeze blowing in the room through Thomas realizes that he sighs just
an open window, today is the perfect a tad bit too loud. He gulps and
day to play outside. Unfortunately, answers, “Nothing.” best friend, whines as he struggles to in the summer like a pair of loving,
Thomas is stuck in his boring English “Nothing, what?” his teacher asks keep up with him. caressing hands, but cold and stern in
class, where his teacher rants on and pointedly. “Don’t be such a wimp, Henry! This the winter, stabbing into his face like a
on about the stupid school ceremonies. “Nothing. I don’t have any problem.” IS warming up,” he laughs. thousand knives. He can almost taste
He heaves a sigh, wishing desperately “I don’t have any problem, SIR!” Thomas speeds up as he watches freedom in the back of his mind. The
to be outside, roaming the streets with Thomas suppresses his sigh, and the town, trees, shops, passerby and fleeting sensation of flying and the
his gang on his beautiful motorcycle. answers monotonously, “I don’t have its entire surroundings fly past his exuberant feeling of going yet faster
Today his teacher hands out a new any problem sir.” peripheral vision. Riding his motorcycle than before thrills him to the core.
book. Thomas jots his name on the front His teacher huffs indignantly and always clears his head, like he can Flying has always been every man’s
cover nonchalantly. He doesn’t even continues his lesson. Meanwhile, leave all his troubles and worries behind ultimate dream, and Thomas is no
bother to cast a glance at the title. Thomas continues his daydreaming. him and enjoy the thrill of the ride. He exception to that dream. He wants to
Every book is the same, boring and *** loves how it makes him feel, the go out, explore the world, and live his
useless. “Thomas, slow down mate, we’re adrenaline rush, the way the wind blew life. He certainly doesn’t need any of
“Do you have a problem, Mr. Reidinger?” just warming up remember?” Henry, his against his face; warm and embracing the useless crap from his schoolbooks.
104 creative sparks a collection of creative writing by EPTS 105
TIME FLIES
(IT REALLY DOES)
: SUPITSARA PATTARASINMANO, NUTCHA AROONPAIRODJANAKUL and SIRADA TRITRUENGTASSANA
: NATJANAN MONGKOLSUPAWAN
It’s a beautiful summer day. With his teacher interrupts his train of
the sun out, the clear blue sky, the soft, thoughts.
cool breeze blowing in the room through Thomas realizes that he sighs just
an open window, today is the perfect a tad bit too loud. He gulps and
day to play outside. Unfortunately, answers, “Nothing.” best friend, whines as he struggles to in the summer like a pair of loving,
Thomas is stuck in his boring English “Nothing, what?” his teacher asks keep up with him. caressing hands, but cold and stern in
class, where his teacher rants on and pointedly. “Don’t be such a wimp, Henry! This the winter, stabbing into his face like a
on about the stupid school ceremonies. “Nothing. I don’t have any problem.” IS warming up,” he laughs. thousand knives. He can almost taste
He heaves a sigh, wishing desperately “I don’t have any problem, SIR!” Thomas speeds up as he watches freedom in the back of his mind. The
to be outside, roaming the streets with Thomas suppresses his sigh, and the town, trees, shops, passerby and fleeting sensation of flying and the
his gang on his beautiful motorcycle. answers monotonously, “I don’t have its entire surroundings fly past his exuberant feeling of going yet faster
Today his teacher hands out a new any problem sir.” peripheral vision. Riding his motorcycle than before thrills him to the core.
book. Thomas jots his name on the front His teacher huffs indignantly and always clears his head, like he can Flying has always been every man’s
cover nonchalantly. He doesn’t even continues his lesson. Meanwhile, leave all his troubles and worries behind ultimate dream, and Thomas is no
bother to cast a glance at the title. Thomas continues his daydreaming. him and enjoy the thrill of the ride. He exception to that dream. He wants to
Every book is the same, boring and *** loves how it makes him feel, the go out, explore the world, and live his
useless. “Thomas, slow down mate, we’re adrenaline rush, the way the wind blew life. He certainly doesn’t need any of
“Do you have a problem, Mr. Reidinger?” just warming up remember?” Henry, his against his face; warm and embracing the useless crap from his schoolbooks.
106 creative sparks a collection of creative writing by EPTS 107
Who cares about Pythagoras Theorem He almost feels alright again when What happened to my house? “School”
or Newton’s laws? They’re just old Henry screams, “Thomas! Look out!” Thomas is completely bewildered: What can be more boring than a
products from some busybodies in From his right, he can see a blinding Where are my parents? book? A book about school, apparently.
ancient times. Sure, they are useful for light from a car’s headlight, racing at Before he can panic more than he “School? What’s there to write
certain things; fortunately, those certain an alarming speed towards him. His already has, two young children enter about school? I hate school. Why would
things aren’t included in his life. eyes widen in surprise as he swerves the room. One is a boy, the other, a girl. anyone write about school?”
A frown creeps upon his young to his right frantically to avoid the The boy has an old book tucked under “Because it’s not our kind of school,
face, his blond brows crease and his icy collision. However, at the speed he is his arms. It all seems to be a perfectly stupid. This is the old kind of school that
blue eyes narrow with intense dislike. driving and with such sudden normal scene, but the strange thing is, they had hundreds and hundreds of
Ugh! That stupid essay! He hasn’t movements, he loses control of his they don’t seem to notice Thomas at all. years ago. Centuries ago.”
even touched it yet. The topic is, if he motorcycle and crashes into a fence Even thousands and thousands of
remembers correctly is,“The Importance that surrounds the park. The force from *** years ago, the fact won’t change.
of School”. For goodness’ sake! He hates the crash sends him flying over the “Gee” says the boy, “what a waste. “Well, I don’t know what kind of
school, so how can he possibly write fence into the air, and for a moment, for When you’re through with the book, you school they had all that time ago...
something complimentary about the first time in his life, Thomas is just throw it away, I guess. Our television Anyway, they had a teacher,” the girl
something he loathes? really flying. And that’s his last sensation screen must have a million books on it states strongly. Well, she hasn’t met my
Don’t make me laugh, he thought, before he hits the ground and everything and it’s good for plenty more. I wouldn’t English teacher.
how is school important? Homeschooling blacks out. throw it away.” “Sure they had a teacher, but it
works just fine! Books on television? I am so wasn’t a regular teacher. It was a man”
He really wants to enroll to some of *** amazed that I forget to agree with the “A man? How could a man be a
those self-study courses and indulges Thomas’s eyelids feel heavy; they idea of throwing the book away. teacher?”
himself with subjects that he enjoys. suddenly flutter open. “Same with mine,” says a little girl, I want to salute to this girl, whoever
Unfortunately, his parents are very Where am I? He looks around, “Where did you find it?” she is. I wish my parents could hear
old-fashioned, and still believe that trying to process what he sees. The “In my house.” He pointed directly this, if I can find them, that is.
schools are the best places to learn, a place looks like his house, with a few, at me without looking up from the book. “Well, he just told the boys and girls
concept which mystifies Thomas. or many, alterations. He recognizes the I mean really directly because his hand things and gave them homework and
familiar place, although it is glowing is actually passing through me! asked them questions.”
Thomas shakes his head fervently with shiny equipment that he has This is creepy. “A man isn’t smart enough”
and speeds up even faster as if to leave never seen. The main structures are “What’s it about?” the same girl “Sure is,” the boy does not stop
all these useless thoughts behind him. present. says with her high annoying voice. arguing, “My father knows as much as
106 creative sparks a collection of creative writing by EPTS 107
Who cares about Pythagoras Theorem He almost feels alright again when What happened to my house? “School”
or Newton’s laws? They’re just old Henry screams, “Thomas! Look out!” Thomas is completely bewildered: What can be more boring than a
products from some busybodies in From his right, he can see a blinding Where are my parents? book? A book about school, apparently.
ancient times. Sure, they are useful for light from a car’s headlight, racing at Before he can panic more than he “School? What’s there to write
certain things; fortunately, those certain an alarming speed towards him. His already has, two young children enter about school? I hate school. Why would
things aren’t included in his life. eyes widen in surprise as he swerves the room. One is a boy, the other, a girl. anyone write about school?”
A frown creeps upon his young to his right frantically to avoid the The boy has an old book tucked under “Because it’s not our kind of school,
face, his blond brows crease and his icy collision. However, at the speed he is his arms. It all seems to be a perfectly stupid. This is the old kind of school that
blue eyes narrow with intense dislike. driving and with such sudden normal scene, but the strange thing is, they had hundreds and hundreds of
Ugh! That stupid essay! He hasn’t movements, he loses control of his they don’t seem to notice Thomas at all. years ago. Centuries ago.”
even touched it yet. The topic is, if he motorcycle and crashes into a fence Even thousands and thousands of
remembers correctly is,“The Importance that surrounds the park. The force from *** years ago, the fact won’t change.
of School”. For goodness’ sake! He hates the crash sends him flying over the “Gee” says the boy, “what a waste. “Well, I don’t know what kind of
school, so how can he possibly write fence into the air, and for a moment, for When you’re through with the book, you school they had all that time ago...
something complimentary about the first time in his life, Thomas is just throw it away, I guess. Our television Anyway, they had a teacher,” the girl
something he loathes? really flying. And that’s his last sensation screen must have a million books on it states strongly. Well, she hasn’t met my
Don’t make me laugh, he thought, before he hits the ground and everything and it’s good for plenty more. I wouldn’t English teacher.
how is school important? Homeschooling blacks out. throw it away.” “Sure they had a teacher, but it
works just fine! Books on television? I am so wasn’t a regular teacher. It was a man”
He really wants to enroll to some of *** amazed that I forget to agree with the “A man? How could a man be a
those self-study courses and indulges Thomas’s eyelids feel heavy; they idea of throwing the book away. teacher?”
himself with subjects that he enjoys. suddenly flutter open. “Same with mine,” says a little girl, I want to salute to this girl, whoever
Unfortunately, his parents are very Where am I? He looks around, “Where did you find it?” she is. I wish my parents could hear
old-fashioned, and still believe that trying to process what he sees. The “In my house.” He pointed directly this, if I can find them, that is.
schools are the best places to learn, a place looks like his house, with a few, at me without looking up from the book. “Well, he just told the boys and girls
concept which mystifies Thomas. or many, alterations. He recognizes the I mean really directly because his hand things and gave them homework and
familiar place, although it is glowing is actually passing through me! asked them questions.”
Thomas shakes his head fervently with shiny equipment that he has This is creepy. “A man isn’t smart enough”
and speeds up even faster as if to leave never seen. The main structures are “What’s it about?” the same girl “Sure is,” the boy does not stop
all these useless thoughts behind him. present. says with her high annoying voice. arguing, “My father knows as much as
108 creative sparks a collection of creative writing by EPTS 109
my teacher.” Tommy? It is odd that he has the no good. I can tell that he is not learning My eyes shift to the other the side
“He can’t!,” the girl acts like the boy same nickname as mine. anything as his eyes wander around of the room and I see a calendar--2157.
has said something like the aliens are The girl, Margie, quickly asks the screen and I notice him snoring a
real, “A man can’t know as much as a Tommy, “Can I read the book some couple of times. The so-called teacher ***
teacher.” more with you after school?” does not wake him up or encourage him “Thomas! Thomas!” Thomas wakes
What exactly is their godly clever “Maybe,” Tommy replies, whistles to participate. Plus, what is Tommy up to the call of his mom in the hospital.
teacher? and walks away with the book. I doing here all alone by himself? He He cannot believe what he has just
“He knows almost as much, I quickly follow him downstairs. needs company - friends to share seen. Was it a dream? An illusion?
betcha.” A big wide screen quickly grabs my thoughts and discuss lessons with.
The girl is a little bit stunned before attention. It is similar to television but A P.E. class that allows the boy to It does not matter as Thomas has
she continues to argue, “I wouldn’t want only more high-tech. There are letters enjoy some fresh air would have also now learned one important thing - he
a strange man in my house to teach on the screen with weird electronic been nice. learns to appreciate his teachers, his
me.” Sure, strange. sound, “Today’s geometric lesson is This is absurd. I even wish my books and his school. After his recovery,
“You don’t know much, Margie,” the on angles. Please insert yesterday’s English teacher were here teaching he goes back to the school and starts
boy can barely say with laughter, “The homework in the proper slot.” instead of this lackluster instructor. paying attention in class and studying
teacher didn’t live in the house. They Watching the screen is amusing for Right now, reading a book is probably hard. Soon enough, he graduates
had a special building and all the kids the first few minutes but after an hour more fascinating. With that thought in proudly with a GPA of 3.5 He then goes
went there.” it becomes terribly painful to the eyes. mind, I run back upstairs to see the on to accomplish his goal, which is to
What? They don’t know that? I sit up, straightening up my back, book that the kids were reading. I skim become a pilot.
I walk a little closer towards them blinking several times to adjust to the through the book and realize that it is
to get a better look at the book. It is an light that the evil screen flashes into my written about my school. This is getting
ancient book covered with a black eyes. weirder and weirder. My hands
alphabet all over the pale yellow papers. Man this is worse than going to a accidently brush the book off of the
It somehow looks familiar. But just real school. Every part of my body hurts table and it falls on the ground, face-up
before I actually get to read the book, but Tommy shows no sign of getting up and closes. I cannot believe my eyes.
someone shouts so loudly that I jump. so I decide to continue observing him. Thomas Reidinger. Heart pounding,
“Margie! School!” Clenching my palms in and out, tapping hands shaking, I pick up the book to look
“Not yet, Mama” my feet on the ground, I can’t take it at it more carefully. Although the ink has
“Now! And it’s probably time for anymore. Sitting in a chair, staring at faded, I remember the handwriting
Tommy too.” the screen all day is doing the poor boy clearly as it is mine.
108 creative sparks a collection of creative writing by EPTS 109
my teacher.” Tommy? It is odd that he has the no good. I can tell that he is not learning My eyes shift to the other the side
“He can’t!,” the girl acts like the boy same nickname as mine. anything as his eyes wander around of the room and I see a calendar--2157.
has said something like the aliens are The girl, Margie, quickly asks the screen and I notice him snoring a
real, “A man can’t know as much as a Tommy, “Can I read the book some couple of times. The so-called teacher ***
teacher.” more with you after school?” does not wake him up or encourage him “Thomas! Thomas!” Thomas wakes
What exactly is their godly clever “Maybe,” Tommy replies, whistles to participate. Plus, what is Tommy up to the call of his mom in the hospital.
teacher? and walks away with the book. I doing here all alone by himself? He He cannot believe what he has just
“He knows almost as much, I quickly follow him downstairs. needs company - friends to share seen. Was it a dream? An illusion?
betcha.” A big wide screen quickly grabs my thoughts and discuss lessons with.
The girl is a little bit stunned before attention. It is similar to television but A P.E. class that allows the boy to It does not matter as Thomas has
she continues to argue, “I wouldn’t want only more high-tech. There are letters enjoy some fresh air would have also now learned one important thing - he
a strange man in my house to teach on the screen with weird electronic been nice. learns to appreciate his teachers, his
me.” Sure, strange. sound, “Today’s geometric lesson is This is absurd. I even wish my books and his school. After his recovery,
“You don’t know much, Margie,” the on angles. Please insert yesterday’s English teacher were here teaching he goes back to the school and starts
boy can barely say with laughter, “The homework in the proper slot.” instead of this lackluster instructor. paying attention in class and studying
teacher didn’t live in the house. They Watching the screen is amusing for Right now, reading a book is probably hard. Soon enough, he graduates
had a special building and all the kids the first few minutes but after an hour more fascinating. With that thought in proudly with a GPA of 3.5 He then goes
went there.” it becomes terribly painful to the eyes. mind, I run back upstairs to see the on to accomplish his goal, which is to
What? They don’t know that? I sit up, straightening up my back, book that the kids were reading. I skim become a pilot.
I walk a little closer towards them blinking several times to adjust to the through the book and realize that it is
to get a better look at the book. It is an light that the evil screen flashes into my written about my school. This is getting
ancient book covered with a black eyes. weirder and weirder. My hands
alphabet all over the pale yellow papers. Man this is worse than going to a accidently brush the book off of the
It somehow looks familiar. But just real school. Every part of my body hurts table and it falls on the ground, face-up
before I actually get to read the book, but Tommy shows no sign of getting up and closes. I cannot believe my eyes.
someone shouts so loudly that I jump. so I decide to continue observing him. Thomas Reidinger. Heart pounding,
“Margie! School!” Clenching my palms in and out, tapping hands shaking, I pick up the book to look
“Not yet, Mama” my feet on the ground, I can’t take it at it more carefully. Although the ink has
“Now! And it’s probably time for anymore. Sitting in a chair, staring at faded, I remember the handwriting
Tommy too.” the screen all day is doing the poor boy clearly as it is mine.
110 creative sparks a collection of creative writing by EPTS 111
TO OPEN
THE DOOR
: PASSAWEE CHEVASATH : NATTAN TAWORNSATIT
Soft snow fell steadily and solemnly fallen from treetops struggling to prevail
from the sky – a vehement emptiness, the coming of winter. But just when it
still, and devoid of colour – like weight- turned its head to presume ameliorating
less dandelions floating through time, its thirst – its shiny black eyes glaring
its presence made discernable only by back at it from the river, its jagged
the contrasting black of the blanket of antlers rippled by subtle waves – the
trees that stood below. Silence swept snow deer could sense a slight
through the massive forest, seeping its movement from behind. It rotated its
way swiftly between the spaces of tall neck once again, scrutinizing at the
tree sentinels, topped partly with white. gapes amid the rocks and the trunks,
The whole landscape was deafeningly staying still, despite the desultory
quiet (it was as if the woods and the beating of the heart flooded with
towering cliffs and hidden caves were trepidation, and treaded its hooves
awed by the greatness of the sky slowly, preparing for escape. stillness of the forest, ready to detect into its consciousness and, without a
above); its tranquillity deadened here It felt as if everything had stopped any motion that might verify the second hesitation, ran for its life, in the
only by the sound of the languid river moving, and for a moment the deer presence of the enemy, suddenly direction homogeneous to that of the
and the offbeat footsteps of a snow ceased to sense the cold touch of the drifted into a trance. flowing river.
deer. flakes settling on its brunette fur. Its That was when the snow deer saw Different shades of mahogany
At first it thought the source of the mind, focusing on the scenery before the wolf, an anomalous movement brown tree trunks blurred and mingled
sound was the rustle of shed leaves, it, absorbed by the placidity and the behind one of the rocks. The deer woke into one as the deer raced its way
110 creative sparks a collection of creative writing by EPTS 111
TO OPEN
THE DOOR
: PASSAWEE CHEVASATH : NATTAN TAWORNSATIT
Soft snow fell steadily and solemnly fallen from treetops struggling to prevail
from the sky – a vehement emptiness, the coming of winter. But just when it
still, and devoid of colour – like weight- turned its head to presume ameliorating
less dandelions floating through time, its thirst – its shiny black eyes glaring
its presence made discernable only by back at it from the river, its jagged
the contrasting black of the blanket of antlers rippled by subtle waves – the
trees that stood below. Silence swept snow deer could sense a slight
through the massive forest, seeping its movement from behind. It rotated its
way swiftly between the spaces of tall neck once again, scrutinizing at the
tree sentinels, topped partly with white. gapes amid the rocks and the trunks,
The whole landscape was deafeningly staying still, despite the desultory
quiet (it was as if the woods and the beating of the heart flooded with
towering cliffs and hidden caves were trepidation, and treaded its hooves
awed by the greatness of the sky slowly, preparing for escape. stillness of the forest, ready to detect into its consciousness and, without a
above); its tranquillity deadened here It felt as if everything had stopped any motion that might verify the second hesitation, ran for its life, in the
only by the sound of the languid river moving, and for a moment the deer presence of the enemy, suddenly direction homogeneous to that of the
and the offbeat footsteps of a snow ceased to sense the cold touch of the drifted into a trance. flowing river.
deer. flakes settling on its brunette fur. Its That was when the snow deer saw Different shades of mahogany
At first it thought the source of the mind, focusing on the scenery before the wolf, an anomalous movement brown tree trunks blurred and mingled
sound was the rustle of shed leaves, it, absorbed by the placidity and the behind one of the rocks. The deer woke into one as the deer raced its way
112 creative sparks a collection of creative writing by EPTS 113
through meandering path of black flying free in the air, cajoling together, on the snow where its paws had been. the quail was indubitable.
grains of soil and white snow, fully chirruping. The covey of quails flew out The grey wolf walked slowly onward, Observing the quails, the hawk
aware of the famished wolf behind. of its sight, and suddenly the deer facing the deer with a feeling of victory. realized that it was not the desire for
Footprints marked the trail taken by the experienced a sense of yearning with It halted some twenty feet away food that would account for its
deer. Soon, the thick mass of black equanimity. from its prey. The snow deer was imminent kill, but rather that jubilation
sentinels gave way to bare deciduous Presently, the grey wolf chased unusually calm. Standing there, it for succeeding in scattering the covey
trees – birches, aspens, and alders – down the deer, the muscles of its legs looked back at the wolf with its of merry quails. One strike, one bird
absent of leaves from annual winter working vigorously. Already it had profound black eyes as if trying to down, and the flock would disperse and
abscission. The deer was desperate and regretted its carelessness on its understand the mind of its predator. The scatter to the four winds, each
despondent. Here, where thin trunks approach to the snow deer. But the wolf snow deer’s stare was reciprocated. individual quail dumbfounded and
positioned sparsely apart, it would had been foraging for nigh two And for an interminable period of time, bound to different parts of the wood.
never evade the chasing of the wolf; days without success, and though the two animals contemplated each The lucky one, its body scarred and its
here, death was ineluctable. this apparition of the deer was other as if they were reflections of one feathers torn by the tenacious grip of
Instinct kept it running, and before wholly serendipitous, it failed rather another. At long last, the wolf bared its the hawk’s talons, would be brought
long the snow deer found itself uncharacteristically to catch the prey teeth and growled deeply. And then it down to the ground, all the while
vulnerable on a vast field of aggregating on its first attempt for said reason. But leapt forward for the deer, the way it making its dwindling chirp for help, only
layers of snow that cracked a little the wolf knew that the deer would be had for innumerable preys. to die there as the hawk extricated itself
under its hooves. It looked up into the its. On this very space of open land, the The golden eyes of the red-tailed from its burden. The hawk awaited its
sky, its heart pumping. Blotted on the chance that the deer could abscond hawk were fixed upon one of the valley moment. And when the time finally
blankness was a small flock of valley from its hunger was nil. quails. Camouflaged among the frosted arrived, the red-tailed hawk let go of
quails, native to the land, dancing Had the grey wolf not been so fully branches of trees high on top of the cliff, the branch – kicking flecks of ice
freely, cutting through the wind with concentrated on its prey, it would not the hawk aimed for its target. The quails rearward – and skimmed through thin
their grey wings patterned with strokes have failed to notice the two shadowed were coming in its direction, and the air towards the quails, without neither
of burgundy and white. For a while, the figures from the far side of the river, wind and snow conspired to form the hesitancy nor further ado.
snow deer felt trapped, grounded, the sequestered beside a rock, as it strode ideal scenario for the hawk. With an Simultaneously, the senior hunter
entire sky weighing down on him. It its way towards the deer with an air of exact timing and a prompt glide above pointed his Winchester Model 1894 rifle
wanted so much to be one of them, self-composure, leaving indentations the dense tree canopies, its catching of in the direction of the grey wolf; one of
112 creative sparks a collection of creative writing by EPTS 113
through meandering path of black flying free in the air, cajoling together, on the snow where its paws had been. the quail was indubitable.
grains of soil and white snow, fully chirruping. The covey of quails flew out The grey wolf walked slowly onward, Observing the quails, the hawk
aware of the famished wolf behind. of its sight, and suddenly the deer facing the deer with a feeling of victory. realized that it was not the desire for
Footprints marked the trail taken by the experienced a sense of yearning with It halted some twenty feet away food that would account for its
deer. Soon, the thick mass of black equanimity. from its prey. The snow deer was imminent kill, but rather that jubilation
sentinels gave way to bare deciduous Presently, the grey wolf chased unusually calm. Standing there, it for succeeding in scattering the covey
trees – birches, aspens, and alders – down the deer, the muscles of its legs looked back at the wolf with its of merry quails. One strike, one bird
absent of leaves from annual winter working vigorously. Already it had profound black eyes as if trying to down, and the flock would disperse and
abscission. The deer was desperate and regretted its carelessness on its understand the mind of its predator. The scatter to the four winds, each
despondent. Here, where thin trunks approach to the snow deer. But the wolf snow deer’s stare was reciprocated. individual quail dumbfounded and
positioned sparsely apart, it would had been foraging for nigh two And for an interminable period of time, bound to different parts of the wood.
never evade the chasing of the wolf; days without success, and though the two animals contemplated each The lucky one, its body scarred and its
here, death was ineluctable. this apparition of the deer was other as if they were reflections of one feathers torn by the tenacious grip of
Instinct kept it running, and before wholly serendipitous, it failed rather another. At long last, the wolf bared its the hawk’s talons, would be brought
long the snow deer found itself uncharacteristically to catch the prey teeth and growled deeply. And then it down to the ground, all the while
vulnerable on a vast field of aggregating on its first attempt for said reason. But leapt forward for the deer, the way it making its dwindling chirp for help, only
layers of snow that cracked a little the wolf knew that the deer would be had for innumerable preys. to die there as the hawk extricated itself
under its hooves. It looked up into the its. On this very space of open land, the The golden eyes of the red-tailed from its burden. The hawk awaited its
sky, its heart pumping. Blotted on the chance that the deer could abscond hawk were fixed upon one of the valley moment. And when the time finally
blankness was a small flock of valley from its hunger was nil. quails. Camouflaged among the frosted arrived, the red-tailed hawk let go of
quails, native to the land, dancing Had the grey wolf not been so fully branches of trees high on top of the cliff, the branch – kicking flecks of ice
freely, cutting through the wind with concentrated on its prey, it would not the hawk aimed for its target. The quails rearward – and skimmed through thin
their grey wings patterned with strokes have failed to notice the two shadowed were coming in its direction, and the air towards the quails, without neither
of burgundy and white. For a while, the figures from the far side of the river, wind and snow conspired to form the hesitancy nor further ado.
snow deer felt trapped, grounded, the sequestered beside a rock, as it strode ideal scenario for the hawk. With an Simultaneously, the senior hunter
entire sky weighing down on him. It its way towards the deer with an air of exact timing and a prompt glide above pointed his Winchester Model 1894 rifle
wanted so much to be one of them, self-composure, leaving indentations the dense tree canopies, its catching of in the direction of the grey wolf; one of
114 creative sparks a collection of creative writing by EPTS 115
the quails espied the advance of beyond endurance. And for the wolf was vicissitudes of every circumstance. The The California quail soared through
the formidable hawk; the snow deer rather exhausted and emaciated, it snow deer was dead, but currently it the sky with its covey, delighted. They
experienced a sense of anti-climax as acquiesced to its last agony. The world was the grey wolf that lay breathless dove through dark icy leaves and
it began to prepare for its final run; the seemed to be rotated, and slowly its on the snow. Within the fleeting seconds tangled branches onto the forest floor
hawk zipped for the quail that had seen vision of the petrified deer and the that followed the gunshot, the deer to the rhythm of a music that seemed
its presence; the determined wolf leapt surrounding faded and blurred into could smell the wolf’s blood as it audible only to them. Having found a
forward for its prey; the younger darkness. The grey wolf closed its eyes, gushed out of its host, granting the suitable patch of soil unaffected by the
hunter panicked and screamed as the and allowed nature to bring it to whiteness of the snow a deep crimson snow, the valley quails burrowed their
game suddenly changed its position; oblivion. hue. The cerulean eyes of the wolf were bellies into the soil, wriggling all about,
the quail looked into the glowing yellow The red-tailed hawk watched as the fading, losing its colour, losing its focus. flapping their wings and tousling their
pits of the eyes of its assailant; the covey sank into the forest below. There The snow deer watched as the wolf’s feathers, as was their daily ritual. The
red-tailed hawk felt something ineffable was something about that moment chest rise and fall tiringly with every quail was pleased; it felt so good to be
from the stare and vacillated; the when it looked into the young quail’s passing breath, relieved that it will live. around with its friends and relatives. It
composed hunter, impervious to his eyes; the gaze the valley quail gave the Its contracted muscles began to relax. hoped its contentment would be long-
son’s exclamation, aimed his rifle at the hawk seemed to have the power to And then the second cartridge was lived. The California valley quail voiced
wolf floating mid-air; the snow deer penetrate its body, both mind and fired. The nimrod’s competent skill was its chi-ca-go call, answered by the rest
froze, unable to control its legs; the soul; there was an enigmatic and an preeminent; the cartridge went through of the covey.
quails spotted the hawk – those that intangible sensation to it, something the the deer’s heart, killing it in a heartbeat. The boy roused from his reverie.
did not, took cues and imitated the carnivorous bird of prey had never felt His son jumped up from the rock, The content father and the joyous son
others – and all flew away, out of its until now. The brown hawk flew back elated, commended his father, and ran heading home, the dead deer and the
reach; and then the trigger was pulled, to its nest, its striped tail and wings out to observe the hunted games with dying wolf on the snow, the red-tailed
and one shot was fired, followed by spanned the sky, never to be seen curiosity. The huntsman appreciated the hawk and the covey of quails – all
hushed silence. again. boy’s keen interest in hunting. He dissolved into reality. For how long, the
The bullet pierced a hole through It was amazing and surprising what cleaned the barrel of the rifle, swung boy did not know, but he had been
the grey wolf’s lungs and the wolf life could bring to a being, all the his satchel back on his shoulder, sitting on his bed, curled up in the fetal
collapsed on the ground. Pain spread miscellaneous possibilities from and ambled to his son, adjusting his position, leaning against and looking
through its body, so excruciating its magic hat, and the unpredictable deerstalker with his left hand. through the dusty window of his room
114 creative sparks a collection of creative writing by EPTS 115
the quails espied the advance of beyond endurance. And for the wolf was vicissitudes of every circumstance. The The California quail soared through
the formidable hawk; the snow deer rather exhausted and emaciated, it snow deer was dead, but currently it the sky with its covey, delighted. They
experienced a sense of anti-climax as acquiesced to its last agony. The world was the grey wolf that lay breathless dove through dark icy leaves and
it began to prepare for its final run; the seemed to be rotated, and slowly its on the snow. Within the fleeting seconds tangled branches onto the forest floor
hawk zipped for the quail that had seen vision of the petrified deer and the that followed the gunshot, the deer to the rhythm of a music that seemed
its presence; the determined wolf leapt surrounding faded and blurred into could smell the wolf’s blood as it audible only to them. Having found a
forward for its prey; the younger darkness. The grey wolf closed its eyes, gushed out of its host, granting the suitable patch of soil unaffected by the
hunter panicked and screamed as the and allowed nature to bring it to whiteness of the snow a deep crimson snow, the valley quails burrowed their
game suddenly changed its position; oblivion. hue. The cerulean eyes of the wolf were bellies into the soil, wriggling all about,
the quail looked into the glowing yellow The red-tailed hawk watched as the fading, losing its colour, losing its focus. flapping their wings and tousling their
pits of the eyes of its assailant; the covey sank into the forest below. There The snow deer watched as the wolf’s feathers, as was their daily ritual. The
red-tailed hawk felt something ineffable was something about that moment chest rise and fall tiringly with every quail was pleased; it felt so good to be
from the stare and vacillated; the when it looked into the young quail’s passing breath, relieved that it will live. around with its friends and relatives. It
composed hunter, impervious to his eyes; the gaze the valley quail gave the Its contracted muscles began to relax. hoped its contentment would be long-
son’s exclamation, aimed his rifle at the hawk seemed to have the power to And then the second cartridge was lived. The California valley quail voiced
wolf floating mid-air; the snow deer penetrate its body, both mind and fired. The nimrod’s competent skill was its chi-ca-go call, answered by the rest
froze, unable to control its legs; the soul; there was an enigmatic and an preeminent; the cartridge went through of the covey.
quails spotted the hawk – those that intangible sensation to it, something the the deer’s heart, killing it in a heartbeat. The boy roused from his reverie.
did not, took cues and imitated the carnivorous bird of prey had never felt His son jumped up from the rock, The content father and the joyous son
others – and all flew away, out of its until now. The brown hawk flew back elated, commended his father, and ran heading home, the dead deer and the
reach; and then the trigger was pulled, to its nest, its striped tail and wings out to observe the hunted games with dying wolf on the snow, the red-tailed
and one shot was fired, followed by spanned the sky, never to be seen curiosity. The huntsman appreciated the hawk and the covey of quails – all
hushed silence. again. boy’s keen interest in hunting. He dissolved into reality. For how long, the
The bullet pierced a hole through It was amazing and surprising what cleaned the barrel of the rifle, swung boy did not know, but he had been
the grey wolf’s lungs and the wolf life could bring to a being, all the his satchel back on his shoulder, sitting on his bed, curled up in the fetal
collapsed on the ground. Pain spread miscellaneous possibilities from and ambled to his son, adjusting his position, leaning against and looking
through its body, so excruciating its magic hat, and the unpredictable deerstalker with his left hand. through the dusty window of his room
116 creative sparks a collection of creative writing by EPTS 117
over the landscape of his village. kicking a sooty leather ball that hunt; by ten, the streets would be every passing second built up to that
Through the window, the world bounced about barrels of ale and filed with people heading to different layer of apprehension. The boy closed
seemed to be bleached off its colour. rusted carts, spraying snow. One of establishments. And by eleven, sons his eyes and lay down on his back,
From afar located the vast expense of the boys in an old tweed jacket was from different families would come breathing in and out deeply, rewinding
untouched forest, reserved for the good pursuing the ball, yelling out at his together and play on the street in front the consequences of what was to
huntsmen of the village. From the friends; the other one with flaxen hair of his house. follow, or could, or would betide him
visible edge of the forest lay an empty was running after him, waving his The boy coveted very much to join inside his head.
space of snow perturbed by visible hands all about; all were laughing and the company. Already he had started to
tracks of wheels, isolated from all were fine. Trucks drove by at feel lonely and forlorn; the passing of Music drifted into his room from
the settlement by a row of wooden sporadic intervals, constantly disrupting his father had affected both him and his the antique phonograph situated in
stockades. The boy shifted his view the game. mother rather drastically. Nevertheless, the sitting room downstairs, and
from the orderly lines of grey houses, They – the mother and the boy – he was uncertain about how he would commingled with the convivial voice
taverns made of timber, and vegetable had moved here some two weeks approach these kids, for the idea of and cries of the children that came
stalls to the snow-paved street before earlier, after the demise of his father. opening the door of his house and through the thin sheets of glass. A sheaf
him with an emphatic sense of unease. And for two weeks the boy had locked facing them frightened him so, and he of drawing papers rested spread across
People were walking ordinarily himself up in his room, observing and feared what they would make of him; the table; some were blank, and some
minding their own business; farmers studying his new home from this he was rather unsure of what to do or were painted the pictures of wild
called out to passers-by, flourishing window. Every day appeared to be the say, and scared that the other boys animals – foxes, wolves, bears, and
their crops on the trays before them; repetition of the day before; in the might find his company dreary and moose – with crayons kept in a pewter
men and women alike frequented nearby predawn hours, proprietors of markets uninteresting, for he knew that to them tin can. Other drawings were taped to
roadhouses, coming out inebriate and stalls rose to arrange their he would be considered only a stranger. the walls next to a deer-head mount.
and happy; several elderlies rested commodities; the lady living in the The boy had made up his mind Dust moats floated idly in the air.
on rocking chairs on their verandas house across the street would hang her though, for there existed a second Miniature animal statuettes
smoking cheap cigars, blowing out hazy washed clothes as the first light seeped enticing alternative possibility that he reposed on the whatnot beside the bed
rings. Among them, young boys – through the eastern horizon; by nine, thought was worth finding out. And to was reminiscent of the boy’s halcyon
neighbours, whose familiar faces were huntsmen would get on their trucks and hold true, lingering inside his room only days spent with his father gaming in
not unknown – frolicked on the street, drove to the perimeter of the forest to exacerbated the pressure in him, as if the woods. He loved hunting, though he
116 creative sparks a collection of creative writing by EPTS 117
over the landscape of his village. kicking a sooty leather ball that hunt; by ten, the streets would be every passing second built up to that
Through the window, the world bounced about barrels of ale and filed with people heading to different layer of apprehension. The boy closed
seemed to be bleached off its colour. rusted carts, spraying snow. One of establishments. And by eleven, sons his eyes and lay down on his back,
From afar located the vast expense of the boys in an old tweed jacket was from different families would come breathing in and out deeply, rewinding
untouched forest, reserved for the good pursuing the ball, yelling out at his together and play on the street in front the consequences of what was to
huntsmen of the village. From the friends; the other one with flaxen hair of his house. follow, or could, or would betide him
visible edge of the forest lay an empty was running after him, waving his The boy coveted very much to join inside his head.
space of snow perturbed by visible hands all about; all were laughing and the company. Already he had started to
tracks of wheels, isolated from all were fine. Trucks drove by at feel lonely and forlorn; the passing of Music drifted into his room from
the settlement by a row of wooden sporadic intervals, constantly disrupting his father had affected both him and his the antique phonograph situated in
stockades. The boy shifted his view the game. mother rather drastically. Nevertheless, the sitting room downstairs, and
from the orderly lines of grey houses, They – the mother and the boy – he was uncertain about how he would commingled with the convivial voice
taverns made of timber, and vegetable had moved here some two weeks approach these kids, for the idea of and cries of the children that came
stalls to the snow-paved street before earlier, after the demise of his father. opening the door of his house and through the thin sheets of glass. A sheaf
him with an emphatic sense of unease. And for two weeks the boy had locked facing them frightened him so, and he of drawing papers rested spread across
People were walking ordinarily himself up in his room, observing and feared what they would make of him; the table; some were blank, and some
minding their own business; farmers studying his new home from this he was rather unsure of what to do or were painted the pictures of wild
called out to passers-by, flourishing window. Every day appeared to be the say, and scared that the other boys animals – foxes, wolves, bears, and
their crops on the trays before them; repetition of the day before; in the might find his company dreary and moose – with crayons kept in a pewter
men and women alike frequented nearby predawn hours, proprietors of markets uninteresting, for he knew that to them tin can. Other drawings were taped to
roadhouses, coming out inebriate and stalls rose to arrange their he would be considered only a stranger. the walls next to a deer-head mount.
and happy; several elderlies rested commodities; the lady living in the The boy had made up his mind Dust moats floated idly in the air.
on rocking chairs on their verandas house across the street would hang her though, for there existed a second Miniature animal statuettes
smoking cheap cigars, blowing out hazy washed clothes as the first light seeped enticing alternative possibility that he reposed on the whatnot beside the bed
rings. Among them, young boys – through the eastern horizon; by nine, thought was worth finding out. And to was reminiscent of the boy’s halcyon
neighbours, whose familiar faces were huntsmen would get on their trucks and hold true, lingering inside his room only days spent with his father gaming in
not unknown – frolicked on the street, drove to the perimeter of the forest to exacerbated the pressure in him, as if the woods. He loved hunting, though he
118 creative sparks a collection of creative writing by EPTS 119
himself had not actually hold a rifle in he could sense. Then, he recalled his more he got closer, the more he was
his hands. The way his father aimed at father saying: drawn in. For a moment, the world was
the games, and the process in which ‘Don’t you ever be a lone wolf, son.’ all that was between him and these
his father moved his fingers about The boy stared at his father quietly, rejoicing cries; the world was the door.
the trigger gave an impression of uncomprehending the words. The boy took hold of the brass
something omnipotent, something the ‘Don’t you ever be a lone wolf,’ he doorknob warily. He closed his eyes,
boy had found mesmerizing. He repeated, his breath rising high like inhaled deeply, and allowed himself to
dreamed that one day he would become steam. indulge in the voice, letting its purity
a shrewd hunter like his father; he ‘A what?’ asked the boy, insecurely. bathe him clean. At long last, the boy
dreamed that one day he would hunt, But his father was not listening. The turned the doorknob and, unhurriedly,
side by side, with his hero. But it would grey wolf had leapt for the brown deer. opened the door. Reality dissolved into
never happen, and that day would bright white radiance, accompanied by
never come, for his father was dead. He knew now the meaning of those the light-hearted music of incipient
The boy recounted the evening his words. The boy glanced at the portraits camaraderie.
father successfully killed the snow deer of his father and photos of him
and the grey wolf. That was a quiet day positioned next to his hunted games –
and the snow kept falling onto his new grizzly bears, wild boars, black panthers
deerstalker and shoulders. The boy – on the wall as he treaded down the
could remember his pounding heart and corridor outside his room. He descended
the sweat gathering above his upper the stairs anxiously, biting his lower lip.
lip, hiding there behind a huge boulder, The squeaking creaks of the wood
as the two games stood there waiting exemplified his emotional ambience in
for his father’s bullets. He constantly the present. Soon, he was facing the
shifted his stare from the animals to his front door of his house, from which
father, and from his father to the rifle. came the sound of children playing on
The three entities seemed to be bound the street. Their laughs seemed to have
by an impalpable connexion that only the power to hypnotize him, and the
118 creative sparks a collection of creative writing by EPTS 119
himself had not actually hold a rifle in he could sense. Then, he recalled his more he got closer, the more he was
his hands. The way his father aimed at father saying: drawn in. For a moment, the world was
the games, and the process in which ‘Don’t you ever be a lone wolf, son.’ all that was between him and these
his father moved his fingers about The boy stared at his father quietly, rejoicing cries; the world was the door.
the trigger gave an impression of uncomprehending the words. The boy took hold of the brass
something omnipotent, something the ‘Don’t you ever be a lone wolf,’ he doorknob warily. He closed his eyes,
boy had found mesmerizing. He repeated, his breath rising high like inhaled deeply, and allowed himself to
dreamed that one day he would become steam. indulge in the voice, letting its purity
a shrewd hunter like his father; he ‘A what?’ asked the boy, insecurely. bathe him clean. At long last, the boy
dreamed that one day he would hunt, But his father was not listening. The turned the doorknob and, unhurriedly,
side by side, with his hero. But it would grey wolf had leapt for the brown deer. opened the door. Reality dissolved into
never happen, and that day would bright white radiance, accompanied by
never come, for his father was dead. He knew now the meaning of those the light-hearted music of incipient
The boy recounted the evening his words. The boy glanced at the portraits camaraderie.
father successfully killed the snow deer of his father and photos of him
and the grey wolf. That was a quiet day positioned next to his hunted games –
and the snow kept falling onto his new grizzly bears, wild boars, black panthers
deerstalker and shoulders. The boy – on the wall as he treaded down the
could remember his pounding heart and corridor outside his room. He descended
the sweat gathering above his upper the stairs anxiously, biting his lower lip.
lip, hiding there behind a huge boulder, The squeaking creaks of the wood
as the two games stood there waiting exemplified his emotional ambience in
for his father’s bullets. He constantly the present. Soon, he was facing the
shifted his stare from the animals to his front door of his house, from which
father, and from his father to the rifle. came the sound of children playing on
The three entities seemed to be bound the street. Their laughs seemed to have
by an impalpable connexion that only the power to hypnotize him, and the
120 creative sparks a collection of creative writing by EPTS 121
TRAVELER
: ASHIRA TANAKIJCHUMROON : ASHIRA TANAKIJCHUMROOM
A happy life is what everyone The next morning we are going on
wants: no worries, no dangers, no a long journey to the unknown. I would
nightmares, no failures. It must be a gift love to visit the place I have never been
from heaven, the one they gave me. My before. My man has a soft distinctive
life, indeed, was a perfect one. I live smell on his body and I think it
with a man, and we always have a represents a flower people call “rose”.
wonderful time together, with him He gently applies the smell on my fur,
taking me wherever he goes. He is a which is soft as silk and white as a
gentleman who is very polite and swan. He never did this to me before.
doesn’t speak much. He was indeed a We took the first train in the morning
great traveler. I knew no place where and everything was very quiet. In front
we have never been. The one thing I of me was an elegant steam locomotive,
worry about is that he seems to have breathing in the frosty air of dawn. It is
been strange lately, and I have no idea my first time to see such a marvelous journey began and we travelled a shocking: people shouting as if it were
what it is about. The only thing I know sight; and it is the first time I saw a long way, from London to Paris, from the end of the world, boxes and crates
now is that he is surely going to take “train”. I have a feeling that this will dawn to dusk. My paws chilled when were being unloaded like crazy,
us somewhere again! Oh, I wish there be my journey of a lifetime. With the train gently glided to a halt at our everything went in a messy way, and I
were more places to visit other than excitement and joy, I got into the warm destination. We got out of the carriage could see that workers had a promise
where I knew about. carriage with my man following me. The and everything, everything, was to keep - to get the job done on time.
120 creative sparks a collection of creative writing by EPTS 121
TRAVELER
: ASHIRA TANAKIJCHUMROON : ASHIRA TANAKIJCHUMROOM
A happy life is what everyone The next morning we are going on
wants: no worries, no dangers, no a long journey to the unknown. I would
nightmares, no failures. It must be a gift love to visit the place I have never been
from heaven, the one they gave me. My before. My man has a soft distinctive
life, indeed, was a perfect one. I live smell on his body and I think it
with a man, and we always have a represents a flower people call “rose”.
wonderful time together, with him He gently applies the smell on my fur,
taking me wherever he goes. He is a which is soft as silk and white as a
gentleman who is very polite and swan. He never did this to me before.
doesn’t speak much. He was indeed a We took the first train in the morning
great traveler. I knew no place where and everything was very quiet. In front
we have never been. The one thing I of me was an elegant steam locomotive,
worry about is that he seems to have breathing in the frosty air of dawn. It is
been strange lately, and I have no idea my first time to see such a marvelous journey began and we travelled a shocking: people shouting as if it were
what it is about. The only thing I know sight; and it is the first time I saw a long way, from London to Paris, from the end of the world, boxes and crates
now is that he is surely going to take “train”. I have a feeling that this will dawn to dusk. My paws chilled when were being unloaded like crazy,
us somewhere again! Oh, I wish there be my journey of a lifetime. With the train gently glided to a halt at our everything went in a messy way, and I
were more places to visit other than excitement and joy, I got into the warm destination. We got out of the carriage could see that workers had a promise
where I knew about. carriage with my man following me. The and everything, everything, was to keep - to get the job done on time.
122 creative sparks a collection of creative writing by EPTS 123
There was barely any space between got an hour, you might want to take of leftovers from grilled salmon and at the station that night. “Well, we wish
anyone and the sight in front of me was supper before you come, and it will be roasted duck. Wow! This was heaven! you all the best for you to find him. We
very confusing. What even surprised a long night.” The locomotive answered. It would take me days to finish this, oh, need to leave now, stay safe!” And they
me more, even though there were I was delighted when I learnt that there I wondered how many of my kind knew left the station immediately. Hmm. I
thousands of humans around, was that was still a chance to find my man, but the existence of this place! Suddenly, wish I could stay with them a little
I could see no sign of my man! He I also got a little worried. A long night? from the shadows of the garbage, a longer, then a powerful loud low
completely disappeared from my line In this filthy place with no one I knew? voice spoke up. “You’re not alone, Kid. whistle scattered my thoughts.
of sight. ‘Where!? Where is he!? Oh, This was terrible! So I asked him if he We knew this place way before tonight.” The whistle sounded again. I
what should I do, what should I do!?’ knew a place I could find food. He was My soft fur stood up from fear, because hurried to the locomotive. My man was
That day was the day, when nice though, telling me that there was after that 5 black cats appeared. I at the far end of the platform, ready to
everything had changed. The time had a famous restaurant near the station shouted to them “Leave me alone! Get leave already. “Hurry, hurry! There isn’t
come, when the gift of heaven betrayed where lots of rich people went and left all the food you want, but don’t hurt me, much time!” he called to me. I ran as
me. I walked around, but my heart fell lots of the good stuff behind. I accepted please!” One of them replied, “Calm fast as my legs would allow me and
colder and colder. Humans began to his offer, feeling much better, and made down! Come on, we just want to have caught up with the locomotive at last.
scatter away and the place got quieter my way there at once. Outside the our supper.” Then before I answered Phew! That was close! The train rolled
until there was no one around anymore. station it was very dark. I could only see they said, “we live here, we eat here, out of the station into the darkness.
Silence filled the air, with nothing but a a few street lights and a mild LED and we stay here.” They also told me I made my way up to the cab and
slow wind to feel. Then I started to talk reading “Dining Suite, open 24-7.” that there was too much food for them just as he told me, I could feel the
to myself, “Oh, it is dark already, I must The restaurant looked very clean to eat anyway, so for the first time ever, breeze of the summer. It was very hot
find a place to stay for the night.” and stylish. The atmosphere was just I had supper with strangers. They were and I could see sparks coming out from
A voice broke the silence. “My like in a palace. Fine scents occupied nice though, and even protected me on a roaring fire inside. The place was quite
boiler is warm”, it said, “it is safe and the air, the interior light shone out my way back to the station. Before they loud, way too loud for me to sleep. There
quiet through the night”. I was puzzled. the vintage front door, and crystal left, one of them said something like, were two men in front of my eyes, one
Where was this voice coming from? chandeliers hung down from the ceiling. “Thank you for coming. It has been a shoving coal to the fire and the other
Then a powerful loud low whistle blew. Humans inside were enjoying their long time since someone visited us, adjusting the valves. Both men saw me
It must be the locomotive! So I ran for luxurious dishes. I wished I could get especially a beautiful cat like you! May and pointed to the back of the engine
it. “Is it you who offered me shelter?” I inside, but I also saw that around the I ask you something? What made you as if they were expecting me. There I
asked. “Exactly, I took your train this corner behind the restaurant, a door come here?” So I told them that I had saw a small cardboard box inside a long
morning and I might be able to help. I opened up and someone put out a plate got lost from my man and I was staying narrow corridor next to where the coal
122 creative sparks a collection of creative writing by EPTS 123
There was barely any space between got an hour, you might want to take of leftovers from grilled salmon and at the station that night. “Well, we wish
anyone and the sight in front of me was supper before you come, and it will be roasted duck. Wow! This was heaven! you all the best for you to find him. We
very confusing. What even surprised a long night.” The locomotive answered. It would take me days to finish this, oh, need to leave now, stay safe!” And they
me more, even though there were I was delighted when I learnt that there I wondered how many of my kind knew left the station immediately. Hmm. I
thousands of humans around, was that was still a chance to find my man, but the existence of this place! Suddenly, wish I could stay with them a little
I could see no sign of my man! He I also got a little worried. A long night? from the shadows of the garbage, a longer, then a powerful loud low
completely disappeared from my line In this filthy place with no one I knew? voice spoke up. “You’re not alone, Kid. whistle scattered my thoughts.
of sight. ‘Where!? Where is he!? Oh, This was terrible! So I asked him if he We knew this place way before tonight.” The whistle sounded again. I
what should I do, what should I do!?’ knew a place I could find food. He was My soft fur stood up from fear, because hurried to the locomotive. My man was
That day was the day, when nice though, telling me that there was after that 5 black cats appeared. I at the far end of the platform, ready to
everything had changed. The time had a famous restaurant near the station shouted to them “Leave me alone! Get leave already. “Hurry, hurry! There isn’t
come, when the gift of heaven betrayed where lots of rich people went and left all the food you want, but don’t hurt me, much time!” he called to me. I ran as
me. I walked around, but my heart fell lots of the good stuff behind. I accepted please!” One of them replied, “Calm fast as my legs would allow me and
colder and colder. Humans began to his offer, feeling much better, and made down! Come on, we just want to have caught up with the locomotive at last.
scatter away and the place got quieter my way there at once. Outside the our supper.” Then before I answered Phew! That was close! The train rolled
until there was no one around anymore. station it was very dark. I could only see they said, “we live here, we eat here, out of the station into the darkness.
Silence filled the air, with nothing but a a few street lights and a mild LED and we stay here.” They also told me I made my way up to the cab and
slow wind to feel. Then I started to talk reading “Dining Suite, open 24-7.” that there was too much food for them just as he told me, I could feel the
to myself, “Oh, it is dark already, I must The restaurant looked very clean to eat anyway, so for the first time ever, breeze of the summer. It was very hot
find a place to stay for the night.” and stylish. The atmosphere was just I had supper with strangers. They were and I could see sparks coming out from
A voice broke the silence. “My like in a palace. Fine scents occupied nice though, and even protected me on a roaring fire inside. The place was quite
boiler is warm”, it said, “it is safe and the air, the interior light shone out my way back to the station. Before they loud, way too loud for me to sleep. There
quiet through the night”. I was puzzled. the vintage front door, and crystal left, one of them said something like, were two men in front of my eyes, one
Where was this voice coming from? chandeliers hung down from the ceiling. “Thank you for coming. It has been a shoving coal to the fire and the other
Then a powerful loud low whistle blew. Humans inside were enjoying their long time since someone visited us, adjusting the valves. Both men saw me
It must be the locomotive! So I ran for luxurious dishes. I wished I could get especially a beautiful cat like you! May and pointed to the back of the engine
it. “Is it you who offered me shelter?” I inside, but I also saw that around the I ask you something? What made you as if they were expecting me. There I
asked. “Exactly, I took your train this corner behind the restaurant, a door come here?” So I told them that I had saw a small cardboard box inside a long
morning and I might be able to help. I opened up and someone put out a plate got lost from my man and I was staying narrow corridor next to where the coal
124 creative sparks a collection of creative writing by EPTS 125
was. “Sleep here for the night. We know You can’t tell them about me, can you?” the ship horns. The place was very loud felt very nice and realized how gentle
everything about you. We hope you like Then he replied, “Oh, if someone knew and smelt salty. “We’re nearly there, just people were to cats. “I wish you could
this box we have,” they said. I felt you and you knew them very well, hang on. I can’t stop until I reach the be around here with us. You are so cute
welcomed. A cardboard box! How nice! sometimes there is no use talking since loading platform, the locomotive and cuddly,” said the driver. Magically,
So I ran towards it and cuddled myself what is going on has already been whispered. Soon enough, the train I understood the words, and I thought
up into a comfortable position. understood. I have worked on this slowed to a stop, and men started to myself that my wish was to explore
I knocked on the steel. “Where are railroad for decades now, so me and my to shout and got themselves busy the world, and we might meet again
you taking me to? This doesn’t look like drivers have already become one. Have unloading the cargo from the train. Then sometime. He smiled at me again, and
you’re having a rest tonight. Aren’t you you never had that feeling before? It the locomotive told me that my owner went back to work. I assumed that he
tired?” I asked the locomotive gently. “I seems like you have a very kind owner.” came to the passenger section of this had at least the slightest idea of what I
am sorry I told you that it would be I paused for a bit. Confusion and port. It was much cleaner than here and was thinking, so I said goodbye to the
quiet here. The midnight freight train to questions filled up my mind. The sound he was most likely staying here to rest locomotive and made my way down to
Port of Calais is too heavy for my friend of the speeding train echoed through until morning. Then the questions struck the docks. Its whistle blew for the last
and he left some of the important the countryside, and the questions me again. Is this man still worth living time before it left the station to go and
shipments behind along with some late echoed in my mind. Why haven’t I with? Do I really want to return to him? rest.
arrivals. I had been assigned to take this noticed such things? Have I ever really So before I left I replied to the locomotive.
extra train to the port, where your understood my man? Was it true love I “Thank you very much for a lovely ride The platform was less crowded
master had gone,” he told me with a was dealing with here? What WAS here. I hope we can meet up again now, and behind that, I could see the
cheerful voice. “So you don’t have to love...? My heart got tainted with this sometime. I am getting really excited dark horizon and a bright yellow light
wait till the sun comes up. You might be idea and sleeping became hard, but about going on an adventure and coming from a gigantic cruise in the
able to catch up with him!” I, with still, the moves of the midnight freight exploring the world. And please thank distance. I could feel that the ship would
excitement, rolled with glee on the put me into the land of dreams. your drivers too for this lovely box!” One surely take me somewhere I had never
metal corridor. That was nice. Then, of the drivers gave me a smile, so I been before. I was getting excited! So
another question hit my mind. “I It was four o’clock when the train walked towards him and he touched my I ran for it along the port side. The next
wonder… how can your drivers know arrived at the port. I was woken up by fur lightly. He gave me a nice warm bath thing I noticed was that right behind me
about me and even give me this box? the cranking sounds and loud blows of from the locomotive’s water tank and I was a large cargo ship, and it was
124 creative sparks a collection of creative writing by EPTS 125
was. “Sleep here for the night. We know You can’t tell them about me, can you?” the ship horns. The place was very loud felt very nice and realized how gentle
everything about you. We hope you like Then he replied, “Oh, if someone knew and smelt salty. “We’re nearly there, just people were to cats. “I wish you could
this box we have,” they said. I felt you and you knew them very well, hang on. I can’t stop until I reach the be around here with us. You are so cute
welcomed. A cardboard box! How nice! sometimes there is no use talking since loading platform, the locomotive and cuddly,” said the driver. Magically,
So I ran towards it and cuddled myself what is going on has already been whispered. Soon enough, the train I understood the words, and I thought
up into a comfortable position. understood. I have worked on this slowed to a stop, and men started to myself that my wish was to explore
I knocked on the steel. “Where are railroad for decades now, so me and my to shout and got themselves busy the world, and we might meet again
you taking me to? This doesn’t look like drivers have already become one. Have unloading the cargo from the train. Then sometime. He smiled at me again, and
you’re having a rest tonight. Aren’t you you never had that feeling before? It the locomotive told me that my owner went back to work. I assumed that he
tired?” I asked the locomotive gently. “I seems like you have a very kind owner.” came to the passenger section of this had at least the slightest idea of what I
am sorry I told you that it would be I paused for a bit. Confusion and port. It was much cleaner than here and was thinking, so I said goodbye to the
quiet here. The midnight freight train to questions filled up my mind. The sound he was most likely staying here to rest locomotive and made my way down to
Port of Calais is too heavy for my friend of the speeding train echoed through until morning. Then the questions struck the docks. Its whistle blew for the last
and he left some of the important the countryside, and the questions me again. Is this man still worth living time before it left the station to go and
shipments behind along with some late echoed in my mind. Why haven’t I with? Do I really want to return to him? rest.
arrivals. I had been assigned to take this noticed such things? Have I ever really So before I left I replied to the locomotive.
extra train to the port, where your understood my man? Was it true love I “Thank you very much for a lovely ride The platform was less crowded
master had gone,” he told me with a was dealing with here? What WAS here. I hope we can meet up again now, and behind that, I could see the
cheerful voice. “So you don’t have to love...? My heart got tainted with this sometime. I am getting really excited dark horizon and a bright yellow light
wait till the sun comes up. You might be idea and sleeping became hard, but about going on an adventure and coming from a gigantic cruise in the
able to catch up with him!” I, with still, the moves of the midnight freight exploring the world. And please thank distance. I could feel that the ship would
excitement, rolled with glee on the put me into the land of dreams. your drivers too for this lovely box!” One surely take me somewhere I had never
metal corridor. That was nice. Then, of the drivers gave me a smile, so I been before. I was getting excited! So
another question hit my mind. “I It was four o’clock when the train walked towards him and he touched my I ran for it along the port side. The next
wonder… how can your drivers know arrived at the port. I was woken up by fur lightly. He gave me a nice warm bath thing I noticed was that right behind me
about me and even give me this box? the cranking sounds and loud blows of from the locomotive’s water tank and I was a large cargo ship, and it was
126 creative sparks a collection of creative writing by EPTS 127
coming in right next to me. I heard from was now six o’clock. The tower crane because I had only travelled in England
a distance, “What do you think you are was glad to see me but still, he had lots all my life and I knew nothing about
doing? This place is dangerous, you of work to do. I thanked him for the the outside world. Next, there was
know?” Up high above me stood a information and he wished me good friendship which no one could
tower crane, turning its position getting luck. As I rushed across to the other end purchase. There was the person who
ready to unload the ship. I answered of the portside, I made lots of friends gave homeless animals good food
him with a cheerful voice, “I am on my like Larry the ferry who was travelling every night, and the local creatures
way to that ocean liner over there for across the channel to England, and were very friendly even to strangers.
an adventure! I am not afraid of a gang of 18-wheelers who were Being friendly to others would give you
danger!” “Oh! You’re the cat! Alright travelling across Europe every day friendliness from them. And for anyone,
then, if your destination is that ship, carrying important cargos. I listened to if we knew them well enough, there was
then you need to hurry. It is going to their stories about places around the no speech which would speak louder
leave at seven o’clock. Don’t let world before I finally made it to the ship than your expressions and real feelings.
anything get in your way! I’ve heard entrance. It was time now for me to The most important matter that I
about you from another train, the one make the decision which I had already figured out was that “happiness” does
which brought your master to the made. My journey of a lifetime began not depend on one person. It is up to
passenger section. I’m not sure if he’s right here, right now. I was to be the way we think, and decide what to
aboard that ship nor know where he is.” travelling alone now with nothing but feel about the situation. Happiness can
I answered with my joyous speech, friendship and joy. The grand bell rang be shared, and can be kept. And about
“Really? Am I that famous now? This is again to inform me that it was time to the traveling of mine. The destination
awesome! And I am telling you now, I leave. Now I was truly facing an did not indicate happiness at all.
think that my dream isn’t to find my uncertain but exciting future! Instead, it would be gathered over time
man anymore; it is to find the adventure Since I got lost from my owner, I in the form of excitements and delights.
of my own, and enjoy my life!” learnt many things. First of all, my It was now time for me to follow my
Then I heard a grand bell echo thought was that I knew no place where dreams - to travel around the world.
throughout the port, signaling that it I had never been. That was true,
126 creative sparks a collection of creative writing by EPTS 127
coming in right next to me. I heard from was now six o’clock. The tower crane because I had only travelled in England
a distance, “What do you think you are was glad to see me but still, he had lots all my life and I knew nothing about
doing? This place is dangerous, you of work to do. I thanked him for the the outside world. Next, there was
know?” Up high above me stood a information and he wished me good friendship which no one could
tower crane, turning its position getting luck. As I rushed across to the other end purchase. There was the person who
ready to unload the ship. I answered of the portside, I made lots of friends gave homeless animals good food
him with a cheerful voice, “I am on my like Larry the ferry who was travelling every night, and the local creatures
way to that ocean liner over there for across the channel to England, and were very friendly even to strangers.
an adventure! I am not afraid of a gang of 18-wheelers who were Being friendly to others would give you
danger!” “Oh! You’re the cat! Alright travelling across Europe every day friendliness from them. And for anyone,
then, if your destination is that ship, carrying important cargos. I listened to if we knew them well enough, there was
then you need to hurry. It is going to their stories about places around the no speech which would speak louder
leave at seven o’clock. Don’t let world before I finally made it to the ship than your expressions and real feelings.
anything get in your way! I’ve heard entrance. It was time now for me to The most important matter that I
about you from another train, the one make the decision which I had already figured out was that “happiness” does
which brought your master to the made. My journey of a lifetime began not depend on one person. It is up to
passenger section. I’m not sure if he’s right here, right now. I was to be the way we think, and decide what to
aboard that ship nor know where he is.” travelling alone now with nothing but feel about the situation. Happiness can
I answered with my joyous speech, friendship and joy. The grand bell rang be shared, and can be kept. And about
“Really? Am I that famous now? This is again to inform me that it was time to the traveling of mine. The destination
awesome! And I am telling you now, I leave. Now I was truly facing an did not indicate happiness at all.
think that my dream isn’t to find my uncertain but exciting future! Instead, it would be gathered over time
man anymore; it is to find the adventure Since I got lost from my owner, I in the form of excitements and delights.
of my own, and enjoy my life!” learnt many things. First of all, my It was now time for me to follow my
Then I heard a grand bell echo thought was that I knew no place where dreams - to travel around the world.
throughout the port, signaling that it I had never been. That was true,
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