creative spark 2020

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“Are you sure about that?” suddenly a voice I had never
heard called out to me.
“Who are you?” I asked while turning around to see who
spoke.

“No, no, you don’t have to look…. You and me… We are the
same.” Suddenly a boy appeared out of nowhere, wearing cardinal
attire with stygian hoodie covering most of the red part and a
scarlet devil-shaped mask. His height was probably the same as
me, but the weird thing was that no one seemed to have noticed his
presence.

“What do you mean by that?” I asked.
“You are the hot, I am the cold. You are the weak, I am the
bold. You are the silver, I am the gold,” said the boy in a cold
shivering voice, but it sounded so familiar. “We are essentially a
part of each other.”

“Cut it out man. I don't even know you.” I ran off to my
house, as it was not very far away.

My phone rang. It was Files. “Roid are you fine? You want
me to come over and stay with you?”

“It’s okay, man. I can handle this.”
“Gotcha. See you soon.”

I was depressed. What a day it was. Like how many people
came back from school, only to find their family had passed away?
Life sure is hard, but you gotta do your best. As I was entering my

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room, I heard him again. “Why don’t you just let everything go and
relax? Do whatever you want, follow your instinct.”
I was shocked to see the boy again, but I quickly gained
composure. “Law and order are there for a reason. If everyone
just does whatever they want, wouldn’t the world fall into chaos?”
I replied.
“But are you truly enjoying your life? Are you content with

your life? If you only commit little crimes, other people won’t even
notice.”

“Even if I’m not, I’d feel guilty if other people were
troubled by my actions.”

“Why do you even care about other people when they don’t
care about you? Why?”
‘Why?’ I thought to myself. ‘What is the reason I care about
other people? Why do I value the community so much when you
can just have it all for yourself?’ My head started to ache, my eyes
were strained like a chain was pulling down my eyelids. As I fell
onto my bed, I saw the boy with the mask standing there watching
me as I went to sleep.

I woke up in a field. It was so green and fresh. I looked
around. The field was so vast that I couldn’t even see the edge. I
sat there calmly for a while until I heard a familiar voice.

“Welcome to your consciousness”. The devil masked boy
emerged from the ground like he was a part of it. “It’s so peaceful
boring, and makes me want to puke,” he said furiously.

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“The birds are singing, the grass is dancing along with the
wind. What is not good about it?” I asked.
“You see this naiveness of yours… makes you ignorant to
the world.” As he snapped his fingers, the peaceful green field
around me started to change color to that of a bloody red field. The
birds were shot by hunters, the grass was cut. Buildings rose
everywhere, and the atmosphere turned chaotic… I ran and run
and run. But it seemed like there was no end to those people with
only their own desire.
“This is a true paradise,” said the masked boy. “The world
where you follow your own desires.”
“This is not paradise. This is obviously hell, you demon!”


“If I am a demon then… aren’t you one?”
Questions and doubts burst into my head. If humans follow
their own desires then are they truly evil? Or do they just do
something they feel is right? The answer to life has never been
answered, and it never will be answered... But then… who is right,
and who is wrong? Who is good, and who is evil? How can we
know any of this when everyone is human and shares the same
bloodline. How can we be judged if we are all the same?

Roid, as he lost himself in his thought, fell into darkness. He
collapsed to the ground and was absorbed into mother earth The

masked boy smirked creepily and whispered to himself, “Finally.”
“Welcome to the news report. We report fresh news.
Yesterday there was a series of murders at the Nominan secondary

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school. 12 people are severely injured, and 25 were found dead.
The victims were brutally stabbed with a kitchen knife, and the
murderer Roid Mustang, aged 15, is sentenced to execution. This
event is really horrible isn’t it, Mr.Karl?”
“Indeed, Ms.Julia. We pray for everyone’s safety, and we

hope that this kind of event will only happen once. Next up to
sports news… zzz… zzz…”

“And that was, gentlemen, another victim to the complexity
of life,” said a man in some kind of a blue/black uniform.
“Test subject V - 256893 is KIA moving on to monitor, and
experiment Test subject V - 256894,” said another man with
glasses near him.
“To be able to find the answer to life one must have what
it takes.” He looked outside the window. The outside consisted of
only vast pitch-black space, and a big simulation planet labeled
“Logulus.”



The End

Paradigm


Shift





- Wish (Wish) Waiyawuth -


“You should really get that fixed,” says Dan as he walks
out the room. There is no need to tell him that, in fact, Sam has
known about the broken ceiling light for over a year now, and it has
always been there, awkwardly dangling from the moulded ceiling,
every guest who came in would comment about the one lonely light
bulb that has no light, but nothing has been done.

A blind man simply adapts to his condition, Sam has been
walking around the room in pitch black darkness for so long, he
can manoeuvre between the pile of dirty socks and the desk then
end up where he wants to be, you could say he has night vision.

Sam has never been particularly responsible, couple that
with the fact that he basically has no friends, there isn’t really any
reasons for him to fix the thing. ‘Well, today is going to be different,'
Sam thinks to himself while putting on the only visibly clean pants
and putting down his half-eaten cup of yoghurt, ‘Today I’m fixing it.’

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He walks out wearing the grey t-shirt he always wears with
the blue oversized jeans he got for Christmas 2 years ago.
No deodorant is worn, for a man who has smelled nothing but
a flower does not know how the air smells like, granted this flower
smells like 2 and a half pairs of damp socks piled together.

As he approaches the main street he could hear the cars
roaring, the ambulances screaming, and the trees making tree
sounds. The anxiety of his college years come crashing down on
Sam and he starts to sweat, one would think the man spilled an
entire lake onto himself three times over. Usually, when he leaves
the house it’s when Dan drags him out, but now he is all alone,
a cub with no mother, stuck in a circle of angry wolves. He hesitates.
Maybe he won’t make it after all. Maybe he should just go back to
living like a caveman, following the Sun around. Maintaining the
status quo.
All these conflicting thoughts leaves Sam frozen in time, for
a moment it seems as if time stops and before him is God who said
to him “You gotta go, the word limit isn’t reached yet”, and so Sam
pushes on to pursue his destiny, buying a lightbulb.

After what felt like a mile, Sam reaches the supermarket
which is a mile away from his apartment. All he has to do now is to
walk in, grab the bulb, and walk out. Simple.

The store contains a variety of products, ranging from
cucumber to gardening pots, from cheese to vegan cheese,
finding a lightbulb would be a no brainer, after all even Sam knows
it is at the back of the store where even a baby can find them.

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He checks his pocket to pull out the wallet, but it was nowhere to
be found after all his pocket is not linked to the living room where
the wallet is at. After a few seconds of panic, he manages to pull
out 4 dollars left over from the last time he wore the pants. A big
sigh of relief is let out, 4 dollars, exactly enough to buy one lightbulb.

Sam moves forward slowly approaching the hardware
section, his feet ache after walking for so long, the cool air from
inside slowly evaporates all the sweat he has and he is satisfied,
he might be able to do it after all, but then, his stomach growls
quietly but audibly, he looks to his left, then his right, and realises
his biggest mistake. It’s the dairy section.

It was one year before the light went out, on a Saturday.
Sam was lying on the floor of the very same living room. Unable to
remember what happened the night before, he turned on the light
and sat down. His shirt was still on but his pants were halfway
across the small room, he suddenly felt something falling out of his
hand, an almost empty bottle of beer, now nothing but a stain on
the floor. The stomach growled a roar of discontent as his vision
started to fade. In the fridge was nothing but a half-eaten cup of
TM
Yoplait Original Smooth Style Strawberry Flavored Yoghurt that
he bought a week ago. It was the most delicious thing that has ever
touched his mouth…probably because he was drunk.
Now Sam is in peril, he must choose between the yoghurt
and the ability to see at night. ‘We can buy yoghurt later, remember
your original plan?’ Sam tells himself ‘Yeah, but we’re out of
yoghurt.’ That is a good point, he is out of juicy delicious strawberry
yoghurt, but he is also out of light, and both are pretty important.

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‘But you promised Dan you’d replace the bulb’ Sam reminds
himself ‘he’s your only friend you know,’ with that in mind, Sam
peer-pressures himself and walks toward the lightbulb. Exactly
three steps were taken before he realises no such promise was
made and now we’re back at the start, only 3 literal steps closer to
the goal.

Sweat is now vividly visible, but no movement detected, all
muscles now stuck in place as commands are suspended. Milk
starts to disappear carton after carton, but the yoghurt, strawberry
yoghurt, and the one who craves it still remains. The hesitation
mounts as Sam fights Sam over who would make Sam happier.

At last, Sam decides that it was time for him to try something
new, something he has never done before, he realises he was
scared of mistakes this whole time and no longer would the old
Sam take control. He walks over, grabs the product, then proceeds
to pay for it with the crumbly bills he had. He then walks out of the
store a different man, a man no longer bounded.

That night Sam sits in the usual complete darkness enjoying
the new blueberry yoghurt under the gentle shine of a still broken
ceiling light. Never before has Sam been this happy, who would’ve
thought blueberry would go so well with yoghurt. And I’m sure this
happiness will last forever and ever and ever.

For the Love of Loving






- Yuenbing (Yuenbing) Ooi -

Eric could still hear it, feel it, even up above the skies. The
boy's cries, each and every drop of tear that seeped through his
eyes. The agony he unleashed upon his pillow, all the curses he
muttered under his breath. Every grimace he gave to passersby,
every stale composure he held around his friends and family, his
dog. He saw the boy's visage grow darker and paler and more
mechanical. He felt every ounce of heat and awkwardness the
boys felt when they were together, the boy and another. He felt the
tension, the inhumanity. He wished he saw no more, for every
second his mind dwelled upon the boy and the boy he made him
fall in love with he felt as if his heart was being pricked by a rose;
so sweetly sadistic, such spite.
And that day his darkest fantasy, his guilty plea, became a
reality, for the boy saw, felt, comprehended, and dwelled no more.
That day, all the agony the boy had been bearing, all the thorns he

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had been holding onto, was directed onto himself in one swift
movement of a blade. And no matter how Eric looked at it, upside
down, through a mirror, he still saw his fingerprints all over it.
It was inevitable, he'd tell himself, it was already decided.
Yet his heart sung a different song, and every note it sang was
another jab at his peace of mind because he knew he was lying to
himself. He was the one who shot the heart-tipped arrow, the
poison to reason, and that was the bottom-line. And he knew he
would hear the cries in his dreams.
This isn't the first time that something like that happened.
Other orders were typically just as outrageous, and he realized
this. He had been doubting and questioning why he's even doing
this to people, sentient, feeling creatures, only to make them feel
unrequited; only to make them get their hearts broken. Yet he loved
his job, for deep down, he truly believed that it was for the best. Not
that he ever knew where the orders he so ceaselessly obeys come
from, because where and why those orders came to him never
really bothered him before.

And so that night he went to sleep, his eyes half-open, mind
half torn apart, brain half functioning still, and his dreams devoid of
color or animation...

He woke up to a familiar tragedy that night. There were two
boys, an awkward confession, another awkward rejection, and a
cry, wet and exhausting. It wasn't right, he thought. That kid
deserved every right to be loved back. Why was I ordered to not
shoot another arrow? Or at least I shouldn't have ever made him fall
in love in the first place. He was just a kid!

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It doesn't matter anymore, he mumbled. It's over. Move on.
You can't change anything about this.
His thoughts were jerked back into reality at the sound of
the Fax Machine. The Fax Machine that ruins people's lives. The
Fax Machine that makes fools of us all. It was the Fax Machine that
made his hands feel sweaty every time he got close. It made his
stomach flutter with excitement and his hands quiver with fear. It
operated under the name of love yet did everything but manufacture
just that. How sad must it be, such an existence, he thought.
He grabbed the note and read it. His eyes widening with
horror as he comprehended the note before his very eyes.
It can't be, he thought. No. Not her. How could he do this to
her? She doesn't deserve this. He can't make her love someone
who abuses her, uses her as a tool. Every day he'd pass by their
house, he'd hear her screaming and him laughing or yelling
something. How could he make Anita fall back in love with Dominic,
a man who not only doesn't love her anymore, but also cheats on
her, beats her up, and uses her as his emotional punching bag?
He couldn't. It was too cruel.
He thought about an article he read the other day while he
was looking around in a library down on Earth. It was about
domestic abuse. It was a kind of love that the abused relentlessly
pursued, knowing that the euphoria they're trying to achieve is
never going to happen again. It was a form of one-sided love.
A love that seemed to exist to only hurt both sides of the equation.
It broke his heart as he read each and every word. And now, this,
this cold, heartless Fax Machine wants him to create just that?

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He hesitated. He knew what would happen if he fell out of line: he'd
be reincarnated as a human. And as much as he loved studying
about them and their feelings, he was in no rush to become one.
What had he been doing all these years? Believing that
Romeo and Juliet's inevitable death and how it temporarily
ameliorated tensions between the Capulets and the Montagues is
a good kind of love? The two loved each other more than the world!
They didn't deserve such a tragic death. Or in Titanic, when they
were going to run away together, just the two of them, only for Jack
to drown in a shipwreck? That's not loving, he thought, that's no
better than torture!

He thought about the past year and all the “love" he had
brought onto Earth. All the girls who were rejected by their crushes
to go out on dates with, all the men who were rejected by their
significant other to marry. All the couples that ended up in divorce
before death do them part. All that, and in the name of what? Love?
The grim realization that what he had been creating hadn't been
happiness at all, rather a dark obsession under a white repute
made his veins turn ice cold. A world without love risked no chance
of hurting people, he thought. His brows furrowed. It was a world of
blandness, yet it was so much better than the indescribable agony
of even a single heartbreak. His entire body shuddered. Was this
true? Was he right? Would things be better if...?

He had to make the decision now, he realized, as he saw
Anita quietly stuffing her belongings into a traveling bag. He knew
if he didn't act fast the choice would no longer be his. She would
run away, and he would've failed to do his job.

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On the one hand, he felt a certain familiarity with his duty.
A certain cling to something that he'd been doing for years,
following the same routine. It was a job he'd thought for so long was
the best thing in the world, and the idea that that was a bad thing
still hadn't fully gotten into his head just yet. It was easy to give in
to. It was easy to do the wrong thing.

He thought of the people he'd let down. One of them, Justin.
A college student in his senior year, he was made to fall in love with
his best friend, Jackie. They had the best time together, hung out
every day after class, and would gossip for hours. They'd talk about
all the things that have been going on in their lives, each being able
to sympathize completely with the other. One day, he decided that
enough was enough. He couldn't take it anymore, he couldn't bear
to live knowing that he never confessed his feelings to his best
friend. He was rejected in the end, told that it would be too “weird."
They'd never talked since. He imagined how Justin must've felt.
How stupid, how reckless he must've been to even tamper with his
own friendship in such a risky way. But then again, had he always
been a fool? Or was he made one? Eric felt his fist clench.

Anita found her passport.
Another: Donna. Married to a rich, caring man whom she
loved head over heels. Every day she came back home, she was
greeted with the biggest smile and the most heart-warming of
hugs. Every night when they made love, he'd tell her how much she
meant to him. They planned the most admirable, most opulent life
after retirement together. They were inseparable, holding onto
each other no matter how many problems they faced. In the end?

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Her spouse died of liver cancer. She was heartbroken and
devastated. She felt cheated. Her obsession grew and grew each
day without her lover. She became sad, melancholic, and eventually
depressed. She couldn't let go. Eric couldn't let her. The Fax
Machine couldn't let him. He felt tears swelling up in his eyes.

Anita found her I.D.
Mei Ling; a young woman in her twenties. She lived a well-
balanced life, went to a college she loved all by herself, and most
importantly, she appreciated herself. She woke up every day with
her white teeth showing, ready to head to school and make a
difference in both her life and the world. Every day, she was happy
and smiling, and she never thought that things could go wrong.
Except it could. See, what she never told her strict, traditional-
Chinese parents was that she was asexual and aromantic. She'd
never felt attracted to anyone and she never saw anyone be more
than just a friend. When she came out to her parents, they were
devastated. Already disappointed that their only child was female,
this tipped them over the edge, and they disowned her. They took
everything away from her, her money, her education. That very
day, she went insane. The shock did irreversible, daemonic things
to her psyche. And while Eric wanted to help her, the Fax Machine
told him otherwise. He felt his pulse racing. Eric felt his head spin.
Anita zipped her bag shut.

Now was the time. Eric could hold it no more. He knew he
needed to right his wrongs, and this would only be just the
beginning of a long series of reparation. He reached into his quiver,

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adjusted his bow, stretched his arm, and fired an arrow at the Fax
Machine.
Eric's wings started to deform into feathers, his toga was
starting to blacken. He felt a strange tickle in his stomach, and he
knew what was happening. He thought to himself: how ironic. To
become unloved by Love because of love. The love he had for
humans. He chuckled to himself, closing his eyes. The last thing he
heard was the confusion of Anita, mumbled to herself. At least she
was safe, he thought. At least everyone was now safe from love.

The Beginning of the End


- Punnapa (Pun) Suvimolpan -


Outside of the bedroom, the warm moonlight was filtering in
through the gaps in the curtains. Sitting by the window and tilting
my head skyward, I could see thousands of bright stars dotted on
the black canvas of night. From here, I could see the beautiful
scenery of the village and evergreen pine forest below. The only
light sources that appeared out there were the silver glow of the full
moon and a group of brilliant lights from far away – the lights of
celebration and joy.
Today was the 24 of December or the Christmas Eve for
th
most people. For me, Tonight would be my last night of being 14
and the same day that that I was sent to my ‘new house’– maybe it
was the only thing that I could remember. And I have been living
here for three years from that day.

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The short and long hands of the clock were about to overlap
each other in a few hours. I slowly stood up, smoothed down my
old pajamas. I silently walked past the pile of books that I had
borrowed from the library of Center Athenaeum a few weeks ago.
The Center Athenaeum was where we could find thousands of
books or even a wizard who could help us discover and control our
special abilities or supernatural powers.

It was there when I first met an old man called Gabriel, who
had become my teacher and mentor. After many sets of examination
and meditation, we came up with a stunning conclusion. I had the
ability to grant wishes. Gabriel instructed me that this power could
be used only under the condition that I could not kill under my own
power or grant a wish to kill others.

After being here for a few months, I began to understand
many aspects of people’s lives in this village and became a part of
them without even realizing it. Everyone here had something in
common that made us different from ordinary people. We all had
supernatural powers or special abilities. Some were spellcasters,
wizards, seelies and there was even a girl with a strange colored
eye like me. Despite different backgrounds and stories, we lived
harmoniously under a common rule and understanding of each
other.
I could remember the day after I had just finished my daily
wish granting lesson with Master Gabriel. I asked him a question
about what I had seen, but still didn’t understand.

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“Master, May I ask you some questions?”
He nodded.

“Why do we need to keep practicing everyday? I mean,
what is the real purpose of doing this, although we don’t even know
how our abilities could be useful to ourselves or others?”
“We all have different purposes of living. As you have seen,

some people chose to move out and travel to somewhere where
they can use their special abilities to benefit others. Others like
me choose to stay here to help the new arrivals dealing with their
abilities. Someday you will understand this and when that day
comes, you will be able to decide your own path, Mira”
That night, I laid on my bed and thinking about old memories
until I fell asleep.

I woke up in the middle of the night for no reason. I turned
my back to the doorway and my face toward the window. Tightening
my grip on my blanket and snuggled deeper inside. I was halfway
into my sleep when a great whoosh of the wind passed into my
ears. I suddenly opened my eyes and saw a sudden flash of a dark
silhouette crossing the moonlight path on the floor.

It happened in a sudden flash. But I was sure that what
I had seen was like a pair of wings. Could it be a big bird? Could it
be a raven? or was it just an illusion? Then I sat still with my heart
pounding, waiting for the shadow to appear again. A moment
passed and there was still no sign of the mysterious wings.

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Something inside me told me that this was not a coincidence.
I decided.
Reaching my hand to open the doorknob, I stepped outside
into the gloomy hallway. The midnight wind touched my skin.
I could feel the soft touch of the rug under my feet. Every step took
me closer to to the mysterious apparition. I was unsure of whether
it was a friend or foe. I stopped for a second, took a deep breath,
and looked up narrow stairs to the attic. I could feel something was
up there waiting for me to find out. I carefully made my way through
dust-thickened pieces of wood and the spider webs.

I remember exactly the moment that I decided to push that
wooden door open. But all I could see was emptiness. I sighed.
Nothing except the old attic, a place that I had never explored
before. I was standing near the window where I could see
a panoramic view of the village clearer than from my bedroom.
The beauty of silence and starlight had stolen my soul for a while.

It was the moment I turned around that I truly realized what
had brought me up here. On the opposite side of the room, a tall
figure of a man in a long black dress was standing there under the
shadow, smiling at me. Behind him was a pair of dark wings –
exactly what I had seen earlier. I put both hands over my mouth,
could not believe what I saw. I wanted to scream and run away
from here. But my feet began to lose all feeling.

“Happy Birthday, Mira.” The mysterious man said with
a calm voice, inched forward.

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I stepped back to the brick wall with fear. I could feel that
my legs were trembling.
“Don’t be scared, my dear.” He said. “It’s your birthday,
your fifteenth birthday, isn’t it?”

When he finished his sentence, my body was paralyzed.
How could he know my birthday? Will he come to take me away?
What should I do? Hundreds of thoughts and questions were
coming into my head.

“W-who are you?” I want to shout, but it turned out to be a
whisper. “What do you want from me?” I asked in a trembling voice.
“You don’t need to know my name. Just remember that
I will never hurt you,” he explained.

“I have come all the way up here to present you with
a birthday gift—a very special one.”
Without any hesitation, I answered, “I don’t want anything.
Please leave me alone.” Unexpectedly, he paced toward the window
and leaned his black wings on the glass.

“I thought you wanted to know about your past?” He said
in a soft voice, looking down the village below.

“What are you saying?”

At that moment, I decided to stare back into his midnight
blue eyes. I tried harder to listen to his thought or wish, but all
I could hear was the silence of the wind.

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“Because I am different from others you have known.
Different in the way that I could make your wish come true, Mira,”
said the blue-eyed demon.
“Any questions you want to know, just ask me.”

Without myself even noticing, the fear had escaped me.
“Then, can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he said
“What happened in my life before I came here?”

“Are you sure you really want to know?”

“It was the only question that bothered me for the last
three years.”
“As you wish. Then close your eyes and ask that question
again in your mind.” He said in a more serious tone.
As I closed my eyes and said that question again in my
mind, I began to feel detached from my surroundings. Suddenly,
some beams of light came out of nowhere. Those vivid spectrums
gathered together in a circle and rapidly spinning around me.
In less than a minute, the bright light circle was expanding in all
directions. My both eyes were closed just before I heard the sound
of an explosion. When everything seemed to settle down, I opened
my eyes slowly. I felt just like floating in outer space and watching
the whole galaxy spinning around me.

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Suddenly, an object appeared in front of me. It looks like a
piece of a broken house’s brick with a pyramidal shape. What
made this rock special was its two-toned colors: reddish-brown on
the upper layer and the greyish color below. The mysterious object
was floating in a straight direction and stopped in front of me.

“Welcome to your imaginary world, the world between
reality and your memories.” said a deep, low voice
“This object will tell the truth about the missing pieces of
your memories.”

I was amazed.
“But keep in mind that your wish may have some

consequences.”
“When you are ready, touch the object and it will take you
there.”
I gently picked the small brick up and placed it in the middle
of my palm. Stunningly, various beams of white light started to
shine from the piece of wood before my eyes started to close.

It was the sounds of seagulls and the scent of saltwater that
woke me up. I could feel the rough sand underneath my legs and
arms. I slowly sat up and looked around, next to me was a pile of
dry greyish wood that often grows near the beach. The atmosphere
around me looked so familiar as if I had been there a long time ago.
I then realized that it was someplace from my memories.

“Mama! Mama! Look, I finished my sandcastle”

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I turned around at the direction of the noise. From here,
I could see a little girl smiling and pointing at her small sandcastle
decorating with tiny stones and an orange shell. She was wearing
a pink dress and had a black ponytail. But the thing that captured
my attention was the color of her eyes. Her left eye was the same
color as her hair, but the right one was a light aquamarine color –
the same color as mine. Could it be possible that this girl was…?

“Mira, where have you been? Mama told you to wait there,
isn’t she?” A woman with the same hair color rushed toward the
little girl.

“Sorry Mama, I had to find a dry place to build my
sandcastle. Do you like my sandcastle?”
At that moment, I already knew that it was my mother and
me. My heart was pounding, and the tears slowly running down my
cheeks since it was the first time in many years that I had seen her.
I was standing there watching the conversation and giggling with
joy. Some memories started to return to my head. This place might
be the beach on the eastern coast of the village as I seemed to
recognize some familiar features.
From far away, I saw a group of grey clouds forming above
the ocean surface. And I knew that a heavy storm was about to
come in less than an hour. When I looked at the beach where they
were sitting earlier, they had already gone. Leaving a tiny
sandcastle sitting alone under a gloomy sky. I began to feel the
heaviness in my eyelids again before the whole world went dark
again.

172



I woke up in confusion.
“Am I still in my imaginary world?” I asked myself in a quiet
voice while trying to stand up straight. This time was different,
The surface below me was grass, not sand. I then looked around
curiously.

Not far away from where I was standing, there was a festival
going on. I slowly walked up from the grassy area near the sidewalk
and paced toward the crowd.

“Mom, Where are you?”

My action suddenly stopped, so I could hear that voice
again.

“Where are you? Please come. I'm scared.”
It was the voice of a child, maybe a boy that echoed in my
head. I glanced around, but there was no one who could be the
owner of this voice. Why am I hearing this? How could I help him?

“Mom, I'm here…near the merry-go-round. Mom, Where
are you?” The echo was getting louder.
The merry-go-round? I stayed still for a while, trying to recall
the old stories, and decided to make my way through the busy
market.

The large area of the town square had been transformed
into a small amusement park, where I could see the bright light of
the merry-go-round from a distance. People started to gather here,
waiting for the fireworks. When I reached the rotating machine,

173



I found that there was a little boy standing there crying with an older
girl standing next to him.
I recognized that she was the same girl that I had met
earlier at the beach but was now more grown-up. She was me
when I was in primary school. As I could remember, it was during
those years that I began to realize something that made me
different from other kids – my special ability.
“Why are you crying? How can I help you?” The girl sat
down and asked the boy in a soft voice.

“We...we went inside the festival and.. I got lost with my
mom.” The boy rubbed his eyes.
“Can you tell me what your mom is wearing today?”

“She is wearing a long dress with a scarf, an orange one.”

“Thank you for telling me that. I will try my best to help
you, but you have to stay here till I come back. Can you promise
me?”

The little boy stared back at the young Mira.“Yes, I promise.”
I decided to stay with the boy even if he didn’t see me or
notice my existence. While standing here, I could still hear many
different voices that flew in and out of my head. However, one
voice that became more obvious was from a woman. I began to
understand the situation. Mira, or the younger version of me, ran
into the crowd, looking for a woman that was similar to the boy’s
description as well as listening to people's wishes. This way she
could trace the boy’s mother easier.

174



In less than ten minutes, the same girl appeared with
a woman in a long dress. The girl took her to the merry-go-round,
where the mother and son ran tearfully into each other’s arms. They
hugged each other and said thank you to the girl.

That picture will stay in my memory to remind me of the true
purpose of my special ability.
I turned around and walked back to the sidewalk where
I woke up. But after a few steps, my head started aching. The
condition got worse and I couldn’t manage to walk any further.
My vision became blurry and the world began to spin. That was the
last thing I could remember before my consciousness began to
fade again.
Someone was shaking my arms to wake me up from
a nightmare. When I was fully awake, all I could see was the thick
grey smoke covering the room. The flare of burning fire was trying
to leak through the door. This time, it was me who was in the real
situation, not the younger Mira. I started to gain back my
consciousness and trying to figure out where that brick had brought
me to.
“Wake up Mira! We gotta go out now!” A woman who looked
so familiar to me shouted. The brightness of the burning flame
reflected on the side of her face, so I could see her face clearly.
I was stunned. It was my mother who grabbed my wrist and we
made our way outside the room. At that moment, I realized that
I was in my house, the place that contained my childhood memories
with my mom.

175



Finally, we arrived at the stairway, but the bad news was
that the hot flames had already reached the second step of the
stairs. Both of us were shocked by the situation and I was about to
cry. My mom comforted me and kept saying, “It will be fine”.

Luckily, she saw a small space between the staircase and
the fallen piece of ceiling. We had no choice but to run down the
stairway. My mom told me to crawl out first. I hold my breath and
finally managed to crawl through the narrow escape route.
My mom followed me and was about to get out. Without any
warning, another burning piece of ceiling fell on her. I reached my
hand out as far as I could to help pull her out.

“We are coming in! Stay there!” A man shouted from
somewhere not far from us.
“Run away, Mira! Now!” My mom was shouting at me.

I was speechless.

“You need to go now! and remember...” She paused and
coughed. “please use your ability to help others.”

Before I was able to say anything, someone grabbed my
hand and rescued me from the burning house. Everything around
me became slow motion and my eyes were closing gradually.
I looked back at the stairs for the last time.
Those were my mother’s last words and they will stay in my
heart forever.

176



I slowly opened my eyes. All I could see was the blurry
picture of a gloomy room and a dark figure not far away from me.
When my sight became clearer, I realized that the journey was
finished. Finally, I returned to the old attic the same man with black
wings.

“I have the last gift for you, Mira,” said the demon.
“You can choose to return to your childhood with your mom
and have a new life, but you will lose your ability forever.”
He paused.

“Or you can return to your normal life with your ability and
use it to grant wishes to others.”
And every time I think about the past, I never regret the
decision I made that day.

It Was a

Sunny Day,

as Always
















- Preeyakorn (Beauty) Bangmo -

In this world, if you don’t voice your opinion, the crowd
would swarm over you, and your voice is lost. Forever.
The mutes are the inferior. The voiced are the rulers, the
respected, the powerful. Generations after generations, humans
have lost their voices to them. Their rights. Their freedom. Their
voices.
Still, a mute rose to power within a year. Every night, the
Empire people cowered in their beds in fear. Windows and doors
tightly shut. The Silent Death lurked within the land, city by city.
Swift and hushed, none could predict their moves. It was not long
before the blood of the voiced splattered across the country.

The voiced agitated, frantically danced on the Silent Death’s
palm. The number of deaths inflated on the webpage.

Deaths: 3,005,602

178



The discussion forum almost bombarded itself.
‘Damn the authorities, they said they’ll protect us, but now
they can’t even protect themselves!’

‘We have to do something.’
3,005,606

‘We don’t have power. What can we do?’

‘Maybe we should ask them to stop? I mean, they’re just
a mute.’

3,005,625

‘Then how could they be so powerful?’
‘You don’t know? They were born voiced.’

3,005,700
And the forum went mute. Stars danced in my eyes as
a frenzy grin appeared on my face.

Somehow, I managed to get home and still had some
nostalgic energy left. The sound of paper flipping echoed in the
chamber. It was the diary I’d gotten when I was six and reading it
took me on the trip to the past.
The voiced had always been egocentric, and so had
I, even as a six year-old. Although prideful, I disliked voicing my
opinion because I wanted to be humble like what dad said.
Although I didn’t use my voice--my gift--I was exemplary in every
aspect. I thought I was mighty, I was the universe, and that was the
oil to the hell fire.

179



And what tamed it was my moral compass.
They envied me, and my morality was just a snobby mask.
They shunned me, messed up my locker’s key, tore my P.E. outfits,
humiliated me in the hallway--those were somehow acceptable for
the young me, but not after they spread my story to other kids in the
tutoring school, who soon became my schoolmates. Oh lord, did
my life plummet as if it were a hailstone.
Schoolmates didn’t listen to my words anymore. I thought
I was being a good person, letting them take the stage. I was.
I actually was the nicest person in that school. And what do nice
people get? Their voices unheard, never to be used again, forever
lost, and it was too late to realize that.
I kept the problem to myself, striving to be a good kid, and
started to search for the cure. The moment I decided I wanted to
be a healer, and stepped into the fathomless sea at the same time.
I would do anything to get my voice back.

Soon, mom and dad found the drugs. It wasn’t a bad thing.
At least they helped me get straight A’s. They asked me why
I didn’t tell them about my voice? Don’t I trust them anymore?
Wasn’t it obvious that their advice was useless? Being a good
person?

Oh, please.
By the time I got into the healer’s academy, my loudest
shout was just a whisper for the voiced. As if the Heaven accepted
my prayers, I stumbled upon an ancient scroll.

180



Kill four million people to regain one’s voice.
Absolutely impossible. But humiliated on a daily basis,
I thought they deserved to die.

I needed the ability back. It was mine. Mine.
“Auden,” a muffled voice called from behind the door,
meekly. It yanked me back to reality.

It was him, Liron, my right hand. I tapped some morse
code, and the door was opened.
He slipped in via the crevice between the door and its
frame, emotionless, but his eyes lit up, seeing me sitting on the
floor.

I curved up my lips into a prim grin, actually quite pleased
to see the quirkless face.

The kid was lean and tall, his features forgettable. He spoke,
“Everything is ready, we can advance to the Capital in two days.”

I tapped another set of morse code. Liron nodded and left.
Capital was tightly packed with the voiced. Though there
were some mute servants in the Capital, most mutes were exiled to
live outside in shabby shelters and eat the leftovers. Little to no
care from the authorities. So one day, I told the mutes, we must
retrieve our rights as humans.
I persuaded the mutes, stocked weaponries, and gathered
an army. A big one. I contacted everyone I could think of, my
parents’ network, my schoolmates, the old janitor I used to chat
with. Everyone.

181



And then there was Liron.
We first met three years ago. Back then, Liron was a voiced
kid who had run away from home. For some reason, I took the kid
in,and we lived together in my small, majestic apartment. At that
time, I didn’t keep a diary as just running around to keep our lives
together was exhausting enough.
Liron, I later known, was the president's secret child, born
from a mute servant, and just hated how people were treated
unequally--like him as the side his father could not reveal. A childish
protest, yet I was pleased.

The kid didn’t know I used to be a voiced until I sang--
breathy hushed mumblings, barely audible, but it was definitely the
music we had heard blasting from the cranking radio.

The mutes did not know what singing was.

After that day, I often sang during the nights, hushed, but
Liron didn’t have the guts to ask why I had become a mute.
A year later, I started teaching Liron martial arts, infiltration
and negotiation skills. I came home much later than midnight, when
the library was closed. Sometimes I came back every two days, or
months. Once the preparations had been made, the child knew
about the rebellion.
I told him in morse through a thin film of satisfaction.

Liron couldn’t hold his mouth, urged, “For what?”
I glared back, like shooting daggers, then calmly tapped

the table, replied. “Essentially everyone, including me.”

182



Seeing Liron squaring his shoulders, I rocked my head
back and forth, almost playfully, continued.
“Why?” Liron had relaxed a little, whether because he knew
he still had a chance to stop me or because he was spared,
or both.

This time I said, croaking out incoherent breathes, “Trust
me, I know what I'm doing,” then I coughed up blood onto my
snowy sleeve.

Liron hurried to my side, patting me on the back. The child
asked, will-slit-my-throat-if-I-answered-badly-ly, quietly, “How many
meals have you skipped?”
I blinked--not a morse code--saying ‘I don’t know’.

So, Liron sighed and walked off to the kitchen.
I was doing this for me, I told myself.

During those years, I had worked hard to keep us alive.
Liron had been eating on my blood, sweat, and tears. And he ought
to pay me back. Surely, the naive child could not resist the
conviction reflecting in his patron’s eyes.
He should be the bridge to my vociferous world.

“What are you reading?” Liron asked, bringing me a glass
of warm bedtime milk.
‘None of your business,’ I let the eyes said. Somehow it
sounded solemn, tinted with melancholy, and I didn’t try to hide
when he took a peek.

183



Our eyes met, his clearly saying that he was reluctant to
carry out the plan; I suddenly thought of stopping the whole thing
just to stay with him longer.
“Your place seems nice and warm,” he said, sheepishly, and
quickly added, “In your diary.”

He pointed at the ridiculous crayon drawing of my parents
and I holding hands jumped off the page, stabbing our eyes with
bright colors.

If remembered correctly, it was when I was six. Our family
went on a picnic at the lake. When I closed my eyes, I could
remember the fragrance of the glistening water under the sun, and
the enthusiasm of the children reverberating through the ground.
Bare feet crunched against the blades of the grass. My mom’s
chicken pie with her gravy was so good. Being born from my
mother’s womb was one of the biggest achievements in my life.

The first entry started: It was a sunny day.
Well, I came from the Capital, where the sun shines all year
long, embracing the cheerful hearts of the people. Life there was
like an eternal carnival.

I went on a picnic with mom and dad. The chicken pie is
the best. I love mom and dad and I will always be a good kid!
Of course, Liron had never tasted the chicken pie, and
I didn’t know how to cook.

‘Nice and warm,’ I mouthed, gravely, continued, ‘You like
it?’

184



I guess it was the first time seeing me being ‘caring’--maybe
because of the notebook. Amazed, Liron quickly nodded, feared
the ‘caring’ would slip out of his grasp. “Yes.”
For once, I really thought of stopping

I thought for a while and went silent for the rest. But Liron
smiled. We communicated more than normal. Maybe because it
might be the last time. But Liron still smiled.

The kid said, quietly, “Maybe, you can take me to the park
before we destroy it.”

I honestly would love to do that, but that’d definitely
sabotage the plan, so I tapped morse codes. I couldn’t let him.

“T-tomorrow?” Liron frowned, “So sudden?”
We’d destroy the Capital tomorrow instead.

Flames rose to the scarlet sky. Every patch of land scorched
and wailed and cried. Blood splattered everywhere I rampaged.

The vision got darker with insanity every time I slashed
through flesh after flesh. A crazy grin bloomed on my face, getting
blood splashed onto my clothes and diary as if to paint the splendid
red on the muted self I hated. No, to wash off the people’s sins
done to me.

“Have mercy, ma'am, my children are still young,” a woman
cried.
Mercy none gave me when I begged for, I sneered and
silenced them.

185



“Sir, my husband’s leg is broken--”
Yes, useless people.

“Please, I’LL DO ANYTHING JUST DON’T--”

It was a sunny day, as always,
I’ll stop writing in this notebook because it’s the notebook
mom’s given me. It doesn’t mean anything to me.

Although the same sun still shines.
I was tired. Tired of those annoying voices. I just had to
endure them for the last time before the world became silent.

“Auden!” Liron cried, running toward me. The madness
gradually dissolved, and the child quickly spoke, “Please stop.”
I frowned. Out of the blue? Although expected.

“Please, just trust me, you gotta stop,” Liron grabbed me
and tried to drag me back to the shelter.

Of course, I thrashed, and the people looked at their 'hero'
with gratitude. Since when had the kid become so strong?

I pushed myself out of his arms and kicked him down.
A foot on his chest, a dagger to his throat. I glared silently, watching
his throat bobbing slowly.

“The authorities are after you,” Liron said, lifting his chin
slightly.
I arched my brow: So?

“They are gonna kill you, I don’t want that.”

186



“Well, I was a voiced, too, so I guess I’ll die? Fair enough,
huh?” I lifted a corner of my mouth and croaked.
Swiftly, Liron pinned me down, my dagger to my throat. The
skill I’d taught him. Every word I said felt like swallowing rocks,
“Kill me, then, but the army’s not gonna stop.”

Among the chaos, people cheered and jeered: “Kill him!
Show them who we are! The voiced are ALWAYS more powerful!
Take revenge, master!”
Annoying. Distasteful. I looked at Liron in disbelief, but the
child whispered, teary, “You have to stop, Auden. I don’t want you
to die.”
“Why?” I asked, “Why you? Now?”

“I like it here.”

“I’ve prepared for years!” And suddenly he became the
hero. Out of nowhere.

“Auden, please.”

“Kill me!”
Suddenly, a voice boomed through the radio, “Well done,
President’s son. Now, drop your weapons, Silent Death. We’ve
enclosed the area and evacuated the citizens.”
“So this is why!?” the scream almost went inaudible. So this
was why the kid had gained my trust. So this is was why I, I--

It didn’t make any sense? It did make sense? I couldn’t
think it through.

187



“This is why I wanted you to escape,” cried Liron.
“I lost my voice, now my freedom?”

It was a sunny day, as always,

I fell down, scraped my knees. I cried so loud but nobody
came, but it taught me to become stronger!

“Your army has been captured. Surrender or we’ll kill
them!” the soldiers said.
No. It didn’t make any sense. It did not make any sense at
all.

“Kill me, Liron! Kill me!” I coughed up blood. “If you’re
gonna betray me then go all the way!”
“I can’t!” The dagger fell, making a sharp clang. He covered
his face with his hands. And I started to laugh. Nothing made sense
from the start. It had been me and my crazy ambitions.

I threw myself on the ground and started to laugh. I didn’t
care if I looked crazy, because I had been crazy from the start.
People didn’t listen to me because I was crazy. I’d lost my voice
because I was crazy. People with crazy opinions didn’t have any
rights to begin with.

Nothing made sense, yet the logic was perfect. I laughed
and laughed.
Then, I used the tear gas and escaped.

188



I thought we had many similarities under the different
facades. One of them was our thought process, so it was only
natural Liron could find me.
The park dangling at the edge of the cliff was green and
moist among the fiery chaos.

It was a sunny day, as always, I suddenly remembered an
entry, I wonder when we can visit the park again.

Never thought my ‘again’ would turn out like this.

The soldiers enclosed the area, and Liron ran toward me.
His eyes were reddened and teary, perhaps from the tear gas or
perhaps from his negative emotions.

“Please, Auden. You can still go back. They’ve promised you
won’t be killed,” he pleaded.
I asked him if he liked the park in morse.

“Yes, I love it. We can come here again. We can come here
everyday,” his speech quickened.

For a moment, I’d love to, but his betrayal stung sharply in
my throat. I snickered, “Your wish has been granted, Mr. Hero.
What about mine?” My blood on my sleeve.

Liron looked at me, devastated, “No.”
I walked up to the lake and dropped a lit match. The liquid
there was oil. Moisture here was oil. And I disappeared into the
flames, the heat searing through my skin.

189



The thought ‘I’m going to die’ rang in my head, and I was
caught between giving my diary--my childhood--to Liron or not.
I guess no. He was going to have a great life as a hero, and
I shouldn’t weigh him down.

Yet I was alive, sitting in the cell with a chicken pie in front
of me. Today was the execution. Liron had come to visit me for the
last time.

“Give me the diary. Maybe I can arrange to have your story
published so the people will understand your perspective,” he said.

Enraged. Crestfallen. Yielded. I asked blankly, “Smile for
me?”
That was all I could ask for, and it was more than enough.
My flesh started to vaporize. The poison kicked in. I hugged
the diary and maybe, I thought, the sun shone on me, again.

Jone’s Fault



















- Sirapop (Upo) Chavalvechakul & Ratchapon (Boss) Triruangworawat -

We are in a car along the way to Chanthaburi during the
school holiday. Normally my parents would not have allowed me to
go with my friend without any supervision, but since I have been
recently accepted into Thailand's top university, they have given
me permission to go this time. As we are leaving Bangkok, the
dense buildings and people change to vast green fields with
profuse flowers.
The longer we drive, we start to see the coast along the
sides through the windows. We roll down the windows to feel the
wind in our hair. The cold breeze in our face makes us feel like
gamboling in the field. I start to get bored with the music and the
panoramic view. Thus, I start a conversation with my friend, Tod,
who is sitting beside me in the passenger seat.
“Hey, bro, do you know what we call people who like
ceilings?” He asks with a smile on his face.

191



I know it must be a corny joke and resignedly say, “no, bro
I don’t.”
“A ceiling fan!” Tod says while maniacally laughing at his
own joke.

Even though it was a stupid joke, it lightens mine and the
driver’s mood. The atmosphere is filled with laughter, Tod seems to
have an unlimited supply of jokes.

“Hey are you ready for the next one,” Tod asked happily.

“Yes, I hope it’s better than the last one,” I answered.
“Do you know which man can fly? A man with a Mo-hawk.”

Tod likes to make jokes about the driver’s rebellious
hairstyle, which I think makes him look younger than he is. The
driver has been with our family for a long time since his father
started driving for my grandfather thirty years ago. The driver is in
his forties. As Tod pauses to think of new jokes, the driver fills the
silence with stories of my humorous childhood. One of the most
embarrassing moments is when he tells Tod that I enjoyed eating
dirt when I was a kid and tried to convince my mom to eat it with
me. Tod bursts into laughter and looks like he can't stop. I also start
to giggle about my shameful past as we approach the hotel’s
parking lot.
It is dusk and raining cats and dogs with thunder and
lightning permeating the air as we arrive at the shabby motel
across from the local theater. I arrange for the driver to come and
pick us up two nights later. Before he leaves, he gives us a weird
look and asks us if we plan to stay there.

192



I confidently answer, “Sure! Why not?”
There is no bellboy, so, we need to carry the bags by
ourselves. The door looks archaic. We barely open it. I walk to the
reception, leaving my friend with our bags on the sofa. The
receptionist dully greets me.

“Is there any room left?” I asked.
“No, sir,” she answers carelessly.

I am quite confused with the answer regarding the empty
parking lot and no sign of people around. Tod comes to join me at
the reception. We both plead for a room to stay in. The tedious
receptionist turns and slowly paces toward the back door. A few
minutes pass, but it feels like days. Her lean body appears with an
ancient key.

“Follow me,” she wearily tells us.
We follow her with confusion as normally no one would walk
us to the room in this cheap motel. Together, we enter the elevator
and the receptionist presses on an unnumbered button. The mirror
is stained and dirty and the carpet isn’t any better. A flickering light
bulb is the only light source.
We arrive at the unnumbered floor where we are supposed
to stay. The room is directly in front of us. The long gloomy corridor
looks like it goes on forever. As we walk, I notice several burnt
patches on the wall. The floor is carelessly cleaned. Cobwebs
hang in the corner. The decaying portraits lining along the corridor
unnerve me because of their scratched off faces, which makes a
chill run through my bones. They don’t have faces but why do I feel

193



like they are staring at us. When we arrive in front of our room,
we feel relief. The receptionist opens the musty door for us. As we
enter the room we can feel the solid air and our earlier relief
evaporates. I look around the room as Tod sprints to the toilet.
There is an old cracked mirror directly facing the bed. The bed is
dusty but large enough for us. The bed is raised above the floor on
the antique bed legs, which look like a lion's paw. The sharp ceiling
fan blades seem like they can cut through flesh. I feel uneasy and
unsettled in this strange room where we will spend two nights.
I hear the toilet flush. Tod comes out of the bathroom. His face
looks pale and shaken.

“There’s surely something in the toilet!” Tod says in a
shaky voice.

“Are you just hallucinating?” I ask as I try to quell my
uneasiness.
“No, I’m not. Try looking for yourself.”

I walk to the toilet, praying that I won’t encounter anything
weird. I open the door and quickly gaze around the bathroom. On
one side there is a mirror and the toilet; on the other side there is a
bathtub with the curtains still drawn closed. I avoid drawing back
the curtain and quickly walk out of the bathroom.

“All clear. There is nothing inside,” I reassure Tod.
“Oh! Did you check the bathtub?”

I nod but Tod still looks worried. We decide to forget about
it for now and go to a restaurant for dinner.

194



After dinner, we go back to our room through the same
creepy elevator and corridor. I jump on my bed and start to play on
my phone, trying to forget about the unexplainable incidents. While
I’m on my phone, Tod goes to take a shower but he comes
immediately back out.

“I’m too afraid to draw back the curtain. I think I'm scared
of hearing something again.”
“Again? What did you hear the first time?” I ask, hoping
Tod’s just too paranoid.

“I heard a woman’s moan coming from the bathtub,”
he says solemnly.
“Well then, let’s go check it out,” I start to believe him.

We cautiously walk to the bathroom. Together we hold back
the curtain slowly. I do not see or hear anything. However, Tod
looks pale and frozen.
“What’s the matter, bro?” I nervously ask Tod.

“Don’t you see it? There’s a burned woman in the bathtub,”
he says shakily.
“You are wasting my time, I’m going back to bed.”

At the moment I turn back, I see a shadow quickly pass the
door. I am terrified but I decide to keep it to myself. I try to focus on
my phone and ignore my surroundings. Tod only took a quick bath
but it feels like an eternity. Now it’s my turn.

Tod looks at me challengingly and said, “there’s nothing to
be scared of. You seem to be such a brave person.”

195



I quickly took a shower although I am a bit scared of what
Tod has seen. Tod seems to be angry with me since I brushed off
all his fears. After I finish bathing, I brush my teeth at the sink.
As I am gargling, I smell smoke and something burning. I look up
and see a deformed woman covered in burns standing behind me.
I almost faint but before I can, the burned woman disappears.
I quickly wash my face trying to wash my memories out with the
water, but as I look up again the burned woman is even closer
behind me. I run out of the toilet, leaving my clothes behind. “The
burned woman was behind me! The woman that you saw in the
bathtub was behind me!” I exclaim.

“Really? I thought you said there’s nothing inside there,”
Tod says with a shrug and looks back down at his phone.

Suddenly, Tod’s phone rings, which makes me even more
frightened. “Calm down bro, it’s my dad,” Tod says, laughing at my
terrified face and answers the call. He turns on the speaker.

“Hey son, how's it going? Is everything alright?” Tod’s dad
asks with his old cracking voice.
“The trip was great,” Tod says happily.

“Well, where are you sleeping?”

“The Thirteenth Sweet Dream.”
“What? The one that is across the theater with the dull
receptionist?”

“Yes, what’s wrong with the motel,” Tod stammers.

196



“Is it the one with a flickering light bulb? The one with a
long scary corridor and the faceless portraits?” Tod’s dad asks
frantically, “is it an unnumbered floor?”
“Yes, exactly!” I scream.

“Is it the only room on the floor?”

“Yes,” we answer together.
“Something terrible happened in that room! You must leave
immediately!”
We hear a woman’s screams from the bathroom, which
makes our hearts beat hastily and our faces drain their color.
Suddenly, the call ends and we start to hear the sound of the water
running down in the bathtub. Louder. And louder. Scared of the
sounds, we hide under the blanket.
“Stop putting your rough leg on me. It isn’t that scary.”
Tod says frustratedly.

“It’s not my leg,” I answer.

“Then whose leg is it then?” Tod’s voice seems shaky.
We jump out of the blanket and run to the corner of the
room, away from the bathroom. The atmosphere is tense and the
room feels hotter, like someone has started a fire.
“Tod, let's get out of here!” But Tod is stubborn and
decides to stay. The lights turn off. I scream and hug Tod.
He pushes me away carelessly. After a while, the lights turn on
again. It starts flickering faster as Tod starts to become more
annoyed and agitated. Finally, the light stays on.

197



Do I hear a woman screaming again? Or am I paranoid?
Some energy pushes us down hard. We scramble back until our
backs hit the wall. My hand bumps into a rusty joss-stick pot filled
with ash, which is located under the shelf. At that moment, I realize
that something bad happened in this room and the joss-stick was
surely an offering for the burned woman. Tod angrily grabs the pot
from my hand and rises. He fills his hand with the ash.

“I’ve had enough!” he shouts furiously and throws the ash at
the wall. “Come on out! I’m not scared of you.” To my horror, instead
of the ash spreading all over the wall, I see that there is a space in
the middle of the ash staining the wall. It is the shape of the woman.
Suddenly, the light bulb explodes. Tod turns on the flashlight on his
phone and shines the light around the room.

“Come on out! Do you think I’m scared?” Tod sneers.
As he turns right, the woman is standing right before his
face. He freezes. I feel rooted to the floor. Tod is pushed down on
to his knee. The ghost leans over him menacingly. She rasps out,
“You have to pay for the crime of Jone. He burned me to death,
without mercy. Until now he has never been punished! A life for a
life! He has to pay!”
“Who is Jone, Tod?” I ask confusingly.

“That’s my, that’s my dad's name,” he stammers, looking
stunned and miserably frightened.
At that moment the woman pulls Tod into the air by his hair.
Tod starts to scream.

198



I close my eyes and pray for it to stop. “Help! Help!” I start to
hear the sound of bones snapping which makes me want to run
away from all of this, but Tod’s voice encourages me to gather my
courage to stand and open my eyes.

I see Tod being pulled face-first towards the rotating ceiling
fan. I choose not to help him and follow my instinct to run towards
the door, away from the horrifying scene, away from our friendship,
away from Tod my best friend.
I open the door, ignoring his last cry for help. I hope that he
will be fine. However, as I am running down the corridor, I turn and
look over my shoulder to see his head moving through the incisive
penetrating fan. His screams ring in the corridor and my head.
I keep running faster and faster until I pass through the
same archaic motel door. There’s no questioning from the dull
receptionist. She seems to know what has happened to us.
Fortunately, my car is waiting for me at the front door. I tell the driver
to drive as fast as possible back to my house, to the warm hug of
my parents.
Along the way, I think about the incident and try to delete it
from my head. I try to start a conversation with my driver but he
does not answer. Then, I suddenly remember something: I told him
that we would leave after two nights, so how does he know that
I want to leave in the middle of the night? At that moment, my driver
unnaturally turns his face back 180 degrees and looks me in the
eyes. His mutilated face seems familiar. It has the face of my best
friend Tod. The thing with my friend’s face turns back the car and
heads back towards the motel.