Why it's titled 'Pilot'? Cos it's the pilot episode DUH.
-Oliver shipwrecked 5 years ago. He, Daddy and an unimportant character were the only ones who survived the crash but the food and water were running scarce so Daddy killed that character and himself, but not before telling Oliver that he 'didn't built the city'. Looks like Daddy is keeping secrets.
-Oliver arrived back to civilisation. He swore revenge and he kept a ledger book to eliminate on those who ruled the city through intimidation and fear. His first target is Adam Hunt.
-Oliver looks better unshaved. Still hot either way. He felt more responsible for Sara cos she's innocent.
-Tommy looks like a douchebag. Hate him and hope he dies.
-Oliver only gave a present to his little sister Thea, who's no longer 12 but 17 now.
-Laurel hates Oliver, said some heartless things then took back what she said and apologized. Then said 'hey we share something in common!' when they both admitted they couldn't forget about Sara. Then after that told him to talk to her whenever he has problems. That escalated quickly.
-Mummy hooked up with a guy named Walter during the 5 years. Mummy is a bad girl. and Mummy was the one who hired ppl to abduct Oliver. Totally didn't expect that.
-Oliver is awfully close with Raisa. Please don't make a lame reveal that he screwed her.
-Oliver is a badass. Certified badass. I hope they explain who's supplying the weapons to him, and whether anyone else will found out about his identity.
Saturday, 16 May 2015
Short Story #11: A Fight In The Canteen
The once bustling and cacophonous canteen became as silent as the grave. All heads turned and all eyes darted towards our direction. Peter, the defiant lad landed a punch on my shoulders and shoved me backwards. I crashed into Roy, the infamous 'Iron Man' who yelled at Peter for creating trouble.
It was like adding fuel to the fire. Peter went berserk. He gestured for his buddies to help him. Immediately, his entire gang charged forwards. A fight broke out with the other bunch of boys 'supporting' me. Hurriedly, I lifted myself up and scrambled out of the canteen.
From a safe distance, I witnessed the fight spread like a Sumatran forest fire. A schoolteacher tried to break up the fight but it was already out of hand. The diminutive man was punched, kicked and pushed from all directions. "Poor thing," I muttered aloud.
"Boys! What's going on in the canteen?" A familiar piercing voice pricked my ears. Turning around, I saw Mrs Yeat standing beside me. "There...is...is a ...a...fight!" I stammered, feeling a chill down my spine at the sight of the gorgon.
The combative cubs were caught unawares by the sudden presence of the matronly woman. "Stop your fight N...NO...W...W!" Mrs Yeat boomed across the canteen. The brawl came to a sudden halt.
That day, Peter and Roy were expelled from school. I was also disciplined by Mrs Yeat and had to clean up the mess in the canteen. I regretted my asinine deed: I should have avoided the argument with the notorious bully when he called me a roly-poly boy.
Short Story #10: Bullies
"Hey you, a bag of bones, where do you think you're going?" a heavy-set teenager hailed with a sneer. "Hand us your money now!" another youth with an ample girth commanded. The two bullies and their gang surrounded Old Maggie and blocked her way. She could not walk past them because they were all six-footers and muscular.
The brawny bullies threatened to biff the sixty-two year-old widow if she refused to give them her purse. "You...you...all...of you... are bad boys! I'll call...call the police," Old Maggie stammered, fear was written on her face. The juvenile delinquents guffawed as they made fun of her by mocking her stutter.
"Give us your money now!" the gang leader ordered again in a stentorian voice. The lily-livered woman was a rabbit caught in the headlights. At that instant, she wished her husband, Old Mark, was there to protect her. A feeling of utter desolation filled her heart. With her head hung low, she submitted to the bad eggs.
The boys seized to the five fifty-dollar notes from her and hurled the empty purse onto the floor. "What an obedient old maid! Ha...ha...ha..." the immoral guys sniggered before haring off down the main street.
Old Maggie's face was contorted with bitterness and rage. After almost twenty minutes of sobbing her heart out, she decided to calm down. Like a helpless, young child, she toddled to the nearby police post to file a report.
-
Short Story #9: The Pickpocket
Exhausted passengers stood waiting, staring into their reflections in the barricades at the MRT platform. "Please stand behind the yellow line," warned the familiar, feminine recorded voice. The train was approaching the station.
Throngs of passengers swarmed out of the train once its automated sliding doors opened. On the other hand, impatient boarding commuters tried to jostle and shove their way into the train.
"Toot, toot, toot, toot..." went the warning chime that signalled the shutting of the train doors. The cabin was packed like a can of sardines. I was quite miffed at some inconsiderate passengers. They were standing near the door and not moving in towards the centre of the cabin. Weaving through the crowd, I proceeded towards the middle of the train where there was more breathing space.
From the corner of my eye, I spotted a shady man with a baseball cap pulled low to conceal his identity. He was eyeing a designer purse that was peeking out from a lady's tote. The chic woman was standing right in front of me.
Just as I was about to dismiss my suspicion, his nimble fingers picked up the wallet at a lightning speed. My eyes dilated in horror. "Pickpocket! Pickpocket!" I shrieked. The shifty man was about to slither away when the train's automated doors were closing at the next stop. However, a portion of his sleeve was caught as a result.
Curious onlookers cast gazes at the commotion. The victim, realising what had taken place, rushed to reclaim her valuables. The criminal was handed over to the authorities who arrived briskly at the station. The young lady, grateful to recover her expensive wallet, thanked me profusely.
-
Barricade: barrier that obstructs passage
Shifty: suggesting a deceptive or evasive character
Throng: crowd
Miff: offend
Weave: move side to side, especially to avoid obstructions
Saturday, 2 May 2015
Short Story #8 - The Day I Quit My Job
I am growing sick of this job.
The sound of telephones ringing were starting to make my ears deaf. Hearing my co-workers endlessly talking to people on the other line were gradually driving me insane. Not to mention lunchtime was hours away and I usually look forward to having lunch with people who understood my pain working in this godforsaken place.
The telephone situated on my table started ringing and I glared at it, hoping my eyes would turn into lasers and melt that offensive piece of modern equipment. Why can't desk telephones operate on vibrate like mobile phones? What I did next was unconventional of me. I picked it up and promptly placed it back down. I freaking hung up the phone! And here I am, sitting on my computer chair feeling so damn proud of myself!
I did not bother contemplating. I quickly stood up, then lowered myself to pick up my belongings. I had no time to lose. Lifting my chin up proudly in the air, I started to leave. I watched silently as my co-workers were busily attending to people over the phone. They simply looked up and some of them had the most priceless confused expressions that I had ever seen. But I did not want to stop to answer the questioning looks on their faces. At that brief moment on the desk, I had an epiphany. A moment of total clarity. I did not have to suffer anymore. I could just freaking walk out of the door and return back to a more enjoyable life or stay and beat myself up from morning till night routinely.
As I took my first step out of the door, I felt free. It felt like a heavy burden had been lifted off my shoulders and it felt so great! A huge smile naturally formed on my face. I did it. I freaking did it.
And that was the day I quit my job.
The sound of telephones ringing were starting to make my ears deaf. Hearing my co-workers endlessly talking to people on the other line were gradually driving me insane. Not to mention lunchtime was hours away and I usually look forward to having lunch with people who understood my pain working in this godforsaken place.
The telephone situated on my table started ringing and I glared at it, hoping my eyes would turn into lasers and melt that offensive piece of modern equipment. Why can't desk telephones operate on vibrate like mobile phones? What I did next was unconventional of me. I picked it up and promptly placed it back down. I freaking hung up the phone! And here I am, sitting on my computer chair feeling so damn proud of myself!
I did not bother contemplating. I quickly stood up, then lowered myself to pick up my belongings. I had no time to lose. Lifting my chin up proudly in the air, I started to leave. I watched silently as my co-workers were busily attending to people over the phone. They simply looked up and some of them had the most priceless confused expressions that I had ever seen. But I did not want to stop to answer the questioning looks on their faces. At that brief moment on the desk, I had an epiphany. A moment of total clarity. I did not have to suffer anymore. I could just freaking walk out of the door and return back to a more enjoyable life or stay and beat myself up from morning till night routinely.
As I took my first step out of the door, I felt free. It felt like a heavy burden had been lifted off my shoulders and it felt so great! A huge smile naturally formed on my face. I did it. I freaking did it.
And that was the day I quit my job.
Short Story #7: At The Food Court
Lily was at the food court. She was very hungry. She took her time deciding what to buy. The aroma of delicious food made her even hungrier. Tucked away in the corner, a noodle stall was doing brisk business. Soon, Lily held a bowl of piping hot noodle soup in her hands. She made her way to a vacant table. A cleaner was mopping the floor. Lily lifted her eyes to the television, which was blaring loudly. She tripped over the cleaner's mop. The bowl of hot soup landed on the floor. The bowl broke into pieces. Lily looked at the mess in horror.
-
This is from 'Quick Reference To Creative Writing' for Primary 3&4 students. I am trying to dissect this short passage as I find it quite succinct and interesting.
Things to take note:
1. the part where she finally decided what to buy wasn't included
2. who she was sitting with was not important
3. the content of the television show wasn't added
4. I just found out that she didn't even got to sit down actually eat, thus omitting (2)
5. so she lost balance and the bowl slipped out of her hands, so she was not grasping the bowl tightly. And it fell on the floor, thus her clothes are clean.
6. Lastly, I assumed this happened in a school. But nope.
I know this is a short story but details are extremely important. As it slowly unfolds, the situation has to make A LOT OF sense.
So here is my own take of the story:
Lily's stomach grumbled rather loudly as she stood in the crowded food court deciding what to buy. Normally she would feel embarrassed but she was too hungry to care and the heavy aroma of delicious food was not helping. Ignoring the dirty looks some passers-by were giving her, she moved to a noodle stall tucked away in the corner where it was doing brisk business. Soon, Lily held a bowl of piping hot noodle soup in her hands. As she made her way to a vacant table, she was distracted by a commercial currently playing on the television. It was the trailer for the new Avengers movie, where it briefly showed an appearance of the drop dead gorgeous Quicksilver when she lifted her eyes to the television. She sighed dreamily at the handsome sight, unaware of a cleaner mopping the floor in front of her. Before she knew it, she tripped over the cleaner's mop, losing her grip on her bowl. It happened so fast. The bowl of hot soup landed on the floor, breaking into a million pieces. The sound of glass shattering made her grimace and the furious look on the cleaner's face was more than enough to pull her out of her daydream. Lily looked at the mess in horror. While she was glad the brand new blouse she was wearing was spared from being dirtied, she regretted not paying attention and her lack of focus had troubled the cleaner even more.
Short Story #6 - Lost
Normally, when children was separated from their parents, it would be a terrible experience where the little ones would moan and cry due to the disappearance of their mothers and fathers. That did not happen to me when I was a little girl. I fondly remembered the time where I was inadvertently parted away from my mother.
It was the annual sale in a certain shopping mall far away from home. Somehow, that sale was a shared language among most parents as great deals were involved that existed no where else in the country. And somehow, my mother bribed me into accompanying her there. With chocolate. My greatest weakness.
Anyway, as soon as we arrived there, the place was filled with utter chaos and destruction. Okay, I may be exaggerating a little. Parents were fighting over pieces of clothes and furniture. One nicely-dressed woman had her fingernails clawed onto a box of rice cooker and refused to give in to this short but muscular man who was carrying his baby in a carrier. Maybe he thought the lady would be lenient because of the baby? That was obviously wishful thinking.
When I raised my head to look at my mom, my eyes widened when there was no longer anyone standing beside me. I searched for my mom and it did not surprise me one bit witnessing my mom heading straight into the kitchen section. We needed new utensils after my brother threw the old set into the washing machine, thinking it could work as a dishwasher too. Oh, and we need a new washing machine too.
I shrugged and left the chaotic scene. As much as I hate the disorder brought upon this annoying sale, it caused other parts of the shopping mall vacant and non-existent queue lines. I was happy that I was able to get a strawberry milkshake without having to wait for more than 70 seconds. Taking a seat on an empty bench, I lunged at my milkshake with no care about passers-by frowning at a little girl behaving uncouthly.
"What flavour is that?" A prepubescent voice was heard beside me. I tried not to flinch when I turned my head to suddenly see a little boy sitting beside me.
I just continued to take a few spoonfuls from my milkshake, intentionally ignoring his question. Actually, that action was as a precaution in case that question was not directed at me. But, as far as I know, there was no one else within a 5-mile radius who was consuming a dessert or a beverage that had a flavour.
"What flavour is that?" he repeated, his gaze focused on my eyes briefly before lowering it to my pink milkshake.
"Strawberry." That was all I said before I shoved a large spoonful into my mouth.
"I love strawberries," he responded, eyes not leaving the milkshake. "It's my favourite flavour. The taste and the smell. I love it very much."
Simply nodding my head, I titled the plastic cup over my mouth, emptying the remaining contents completely. I threw a satisfied smirk as he gaped in disbelief.
"There you are!" The sound of heels clicking came nearer to us and an aged woman approached us to grab the boy's hand, forcing him to leave with her. As they walked away, I fixed my gaze at the boy until they rounded around a corner and disappeared. Soon, my mom found me, both hands carrying several shopping bags and we went home.
It was a random run-in with another boy the same age as me. He was kinda handsome. A few screws loose in the head but still cute. Was it the start of a budding young love for yours truly?
Haha no.
It was the annual sale in a certain shopping mall far away from home. Somehow, that sale was a shared language among most parents as great deals were involved that existed no where else in the country. And somehow, my mother bribed me into accompanying her there. With chocolate. My greatest weakness.
Anyway, as soon as we arrived there, the place was filled with utter chaos and destruction. Okay, I may be exaggerating a little. Parents were fighting over pieces of clothes and furniture. One nicely-dressed woman had her fingernails clawed onto a box of rice cooker and refused to give in to this short but muscular man who was carrying his baby in a carrier. Maybe he thought the lady would be lenient because of the baby? That was obviously wishful thinking.
When I raised my head to look at my mom, my eyes widened when there was no longer anyone standing beside me. I searched for my mom and it did not surprise me one bit witnessing my mom heading straight into the kitchen section. We needed new utensils after my brother threw the old set into the washing machine, thinking it could work as a dishwasher too. Oh, and we need a new washing machine too.
I shrugged and left the chaotic scene. As much as I hate the disorder brought upon this annoying sale, it caused other parts of the shopping mall vacant and non-existent queue lines. I was happy that I was able to get a strawberry milkshake without having to wait for more than 70 seconds. Taking a seat on an empty bench, I lunged at my milkshake with no care about passers-by frowning at a little girl behaving uncouthly.
"What flavour is that?" A prepubescent voice was heard beside me. I tried not to flinch when I turned my head to suddenly see a little boy sitting beside me.
I just continued to take a few spoonfuls from my milkshake, intentionally ignoring his question. Actually, that action was as a precaution in case that question was not directed at me. But, as far as I know, there was no one else within a 5-mile radius who was consuming a dessert or a beverage that had a flavour.
"What flavour is that?" he repeated, his gaze focused on my eyes briefly before lowering it to my pink milkshake.
"Strawberry." That was all I said before I shoved a large spoonful into my mouth.
"I love strawberries," he responded, eyes not leaving the milkshake. "It's my favourite flavour. The taste and the smell. I love it very much."
Simply nodding my head, I titled the plastic cup over my mouth, emptying the remaining contents completely. I threw a satisfied smirk as he gaped in disbelief.
"There you are!" The sound of heels clicking came nearer to us and an aged woman approached us to grab the boy's hand, forcing him to leave with her. As they walked away, I fixed my gaze at the boy until they rounded around a corner and disappeared. Soon, my mom found me, both hands carrying several shopping bags and we went home.
It was a random run-in with another boy the same age as me. He was kinda handsome. A few screws loose in the head but still cute. Was it the start of a budding young love for yours truly?
Haha no.
Friday, 1 May 2015
Short Story #5 : Dave Lizewski, from Mindy's POV
As title. I was watching Kick-Ass yesterday and I've been inspired to write this piece.
Edit: 4 days ago I watched it. I blame my procrastination >.<
-
As I dabbed the sweat on my face with a towel, I glanced at the 17-year-old sprawled on the training mat. His chest moved up and down slowly as he was trying to catch his breath. I could not help but smile.
"Get up asshole," I grabbed a fresh towel from the table and threw it at his face. He appeared unfazed briefly before he decided to sit up and place the towel around his neck. It was supposed to be our break from sparring right now. We did not declare it out loud but once either of us was worn out (usually it was Dave), we just took a break. I was caught by surprise when Dave suddenly stood up and got into a fighting stance. He started throwing some well-aimed punches in the air and moving left to right swiftly, as if he was fighting an invisible opponent.
"Hey asshole. We are taking a break now," I told him but he did not budge.
"It's okay. You rest up," he glanced at me to tell me that before resuming his training. Shrugging, I left the room to head to the kitchen to make us hot chocolate with marshmallows. My smile started to falter as I was reminded that Daddy never get to drink his hot chocolate that night. Had I known it would be the last time I would be having a normal conversation with Daddy, I would have....actually I don't know what I would say. The thought of Daddy no longer present in my life never crossed my mind. I had always depended on him.
It was all because of Dave that Daddy is dead. If not for Dave, Daddy would still be here, teaching me new sword techniques and giving me a Pop-quiz. But at the same time, I could not bring myself to blame him endlessly for his stupid mistake. He could not have known the new superhero he had befriended just used him to bring him closer to Daddy. When I was shot and landed on the concrete outside the safe house, I feared that something bad would happen to Daddy.
As much as I would want to turn back the clock, what's done is done and there's little use mulling over the past. We can't change the past but we can learn from it. Never let your guard down and never trust anybody.
It was tough adjusting to my new life without Daddy. Sure, Marcus is a great father figure and keeps me grounded but I could never leave my other life as 'Hit-Girl' permanently. Even though I should hate him, I like Dave for reminding me that I am a badass and potty-mouthed vigilante, not a defenseless and proper 13-year-old girl. Dave never treated me like a little girl and never thought that I should start a new life and I am grateful for that. I could be myself around him and never have to worry about having to watch my language or dissing his lack of fighting skills. Which he have been improving on tremendously. He started out as a noob but eventually he got better. All thanks to me.
I entered the training room and could not suppress a large smirk as I watched him struggling to lift himself up on the pull-up bar using one hand. Thinking that I should lessen his sufferings, I placed the two mugs gently on the table before running up to give him a boost. As he saw me approaching, Dave held up his free hand to motion me to stop. And I did. He still struggled and his head was millimetres away from the bar.
"Come on Dave! You can do it!" I cupped my hands around my mouth to voice out my encouragement. It seemed to work (or at least I would want it to) as it spurred Dave on to finally lift his head above the pull-up bar. I did not know what over me but as he accomplished that, I was jumping up and down, clapping my hands and cheering loudly. Dave landed on the training mat gracefully and joined my cheering, hugging me as he did so.
"I did it!" he yelled, his glasses sliding off his nose. We stopped bouncing on the mat and proceeded to sit on the table. I giggled when the steam wafting from the hot chocolate fogged up his glasses. He smiled at my response and seeing that made my heart skip a beat. As he cleaned his foggy glasses with his finger, I glanced at him, thinking about how I would never be able to drink hot chocolate with Daddy ever again.
But hey, at least there is someone special I would be sharing hot chocolate with for the rest of my life. And I am not going to let those moments into waste.
Edit: 4 days ago I watched it. I blame my procrastination >.<
-
As I dabbed the sweat on my face with a towel, I glanced at the 17-year-old sprawled on the training mat. His chest moved up and down slowly as he was trying to catch his breath. I could not help but smile.
"Get up asshole," I grabbed a fresh towel from the table and threw it at his face. He appeared unfazed briefly before he decided to sit up and place the towel around his neck. It was supposed to be our break from sparring right now. We did not declare it out loud but once either of us was worn out (usually it was Dave), we just took a break. I was caught by surprise when Dave suddenly stood up and got into a fighting stance. He started throwing some well-aimed punches in the air and moving left to right swiftly, as if he was fighting an invisible opponent.
"Hey asshole. We are taking a break now," I told him but he did not budge.
"It's okay. You rest up," he glanced at me to tell me that before resuming his training. Shrugging, I left the room to head to the kitchen to make us hot chocolate with marshmallows. My smile started to falter as I was reminded that Daddy never get to drink his hot chocolate that night. Had I known it would be the last time I would be having a normal conversation with Daddy, I would have....actually I don't know what I would say. The thought of Daddy no longer present in my life never crossed my mind. I had always depended on him.
It was all because of Dave that Daddy is dead. If not for Dave, Daddy would still be here, teaching me new sword techniques and giving me a Pop-quiz. But at the same time, I could not bring myself to blame him endlessly for his stupid mistake. He could not have known the new superhero he had befriended just used him to bring him closer to Daddy. When I was shot and landed on the concrete outside the safe house, I feared that something bad would happen to Daddy.
As much as I would want to turn back the clock, what's done is done and there's little use mulling over the past. We can't change the past but we can learn from it. Never let your guard down and never trust anybody.
It was tough adjusting to my new life without Daddy. Sure, Marcus is a great father figure and keeps me grounded but I could never leave my other life as 'Hit-Girl' permanently. Even though I should hate him, I like Dave for reminding me that I am a badass and potty-mouthed vigilante, not a defenseless and proper 13-year-old girl. Dave never treated me like a little girl and never thought that I should start a new life and I am grateful for that. I could be myself around him and never have to worry about having to watch my language or dissing his lack of fighting skills. Which he have been improving on tremendously. He started out as a noob but eventually he got better. All thanks to me.
I entered the training room and could not suppress a large smirk as I watched him struggling to lift himself up on the pull-up bar using one hand. Thinking that I should lessen his sufferings, I placed the two mugs gently on the table before running up to give him a boost. As he saw me approaching, Dave held up his free hand to motion me to stop. And I did. He still struggled and his head was millimetres away from the bar.
"Come on Dave! You can do it!" I cupped my hands around my mouth to voice out my encouragement. It seemed to work (or at least I would want it to) as it spurred Dave on to finally lift his head above the pull-up bar. I did not know what over me but as he accomplished that, I was jumping up and down, clapping my hands and cheering loudly. Dave landed on the training mat gracefully and joined my cheering, hugging me as he did so.
"I did it!" he yelled, his glasses sliding off his nose. We stopped bouncing on the mat and proceeded to sit on the table. I giggled when the steam wafting from the hot chocolate fogged up his glasses. He smiled at my response and seeing that made my heart skip a beat. As he cleaned his foggy glasses with his finger, I glanced at him, thinking about how I would never be able to drink hot chocolate with Daddy ever again.
But hey, at least there is someone special I would be sharing hot chocolate with for the rest of my life. And I am not going to let those moments into waste.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)