Game Over
The game is over
When one player refuses to play
The piano does not sound right
When one hand is not playing
You can’t clap
Without two hands
Why did you stop ?
It’s not game over.
Click
The sound of the camera refocusing,
“Click” it went, I was naked.
“Click” it went, I was tied.
“Click” it went again, I was blindfolded
This time I wanted to scream, but I was gagged. Moist filled the blindfold as tears seeped through the fabric. I could not move nor see. I could only hear the endless clicks going off every second as I laid there.
I opened my eyes. The view of polluted skies greeted my vision, my back ached. I sat up. The stone pavement was warm. My bag, which I was using as a pillow, was safe.
The view of Marina Bay Sands greeted me.
The waves were moving calmly on the fresh green waters. Boats are drifting in and out. A few tourists were snapping pictures of the casino. Posing and smiling.
“Click” the camera went.
Lights
The lights in his eyes went out after that call.
He was as good as dead.
Those hands
are trying to drag me below the waters, I struggled to breathe. I struggled to pull myself out, but there is no island. Just a vast blue sea. Alone. It’s a battle, against those hands and my will to live. My resolve was turning weak. I had never felt at peace. It’s just a big black hole. Going inside. Going outside. Growing in mosses. Growing weeds.
I have nothing left, nothing left. There is nothing to take except my body. Those hands, grabbing my hands and legs, pulling me down. They just want everything that is left of me. But that’s not what it is, it’s not my body that they want, they want my soul.
A deafening sound shrieked through the oceans. The sound of an orca. The killer whale. The hands disappeared. I found myself on the back of the whale, as it lifted me up and away to safe land…
Freedom
Can’t sleep. You are on my mind. Dancing in my mind. There you are, calling out to me. That soft whispers. That laugh. You are behind that camera. You snap. No, you did not snap. Click, the sound goes off. Yet another day. Another time. That I am thinking about you. We are in the neo print machine booth. Waves crashing, sun rising. We are together on the hills. I fell. Into the icy ocean depths, this time it was pitch black dark. There is no one could can see me. No one who can hear me.
I am free. Swimming beneath. Downwards. Spirals. More spirals. Deep. There is no emotions down there, just a blank state. That blank state of having nothing. There are no more whispers and no more memories.
It’s peaceful and quiet. Is this how death is like? In the limbo state where nothing moves of changes?
Let’s end it. I don’t know. But just pull that trigger. So I can be free.
Scarlet Queen
Combining a primary art form (writing) with a secondary art form (dance and acting), is what I am attempting to create at the The Scarlet Queen? Channel. With literary references to contemporary fiction and characters. Its a sad solo journey. The beautiful images in my mind are what I would like to create as visuals on my upcoming series. Sometimes the way to deal with our traumatic experiences is to recreate it into a new medium of art.
When I am daydreaming, I am acting out the fantasies in my mind.
Sandwich
He makes a sandwich. “Wholemeal bread” he says. We shared a cup of milk. I took a bite of bread off his hands. Food tastes better this way.
Love Season
There is no such thing as “success”. It is the biggest lie of capitalism. There are the cracks, the broken homes and broken bones. Behind each facade is a trial of bloodshed.
Thousands are trying, trying and trying against the gravity of the black hole. The media propagating, feeding, stuffing. A murder or sucide, it’s all fine. Smile. Take a selfie. Snap. Make it viral.
It’s love season. Flashing symbols of neon hearts. Women dancing, cooing you towards her. Dam. Drink more whiskey, more. Put that wallet on the table. See it disappear.
There is poetry in motion. The soft lullaby that tugs your strings, that soft lips that you miss so dearly. No. It’s not. It’s me. It’s me that you miss, of course. I have to remind you ever so dearly, you are missed too.
– Risque
Espresso Shots
We were drunk on coffee. Our veins injected with espresso shots. The caffine overload, the adrenaline rush, the speed master – racing thoughts and visions – blasting through space. The throbbing pain – numbed. The numbness – even the sensation that comes after a hard workout, a steamy session in a ultra hot sauna – there is no pain left. It’s the rush that numbs it all. With a little dose of nicotine. A puff, a smoke. Fumez.
Tell me it’s not over. We just barely started. It’s not me you are thinking about, it’s the creation of a new world. I write worlds that no one else had imagined. You & I, we can be anything you want us to be. Just trust me. Let me be. I will write that happy ending. As long you let me.
Low & High
I am at a all time low. It’s that kind of low you feel when you are back to ground zero. It’s the entrepreneur low, to see what you had built, demolished into pieces by metallic bulldozers. It’s that low, people do not see in magazines or news. It’s that low, that most people feel everyday, when they think they are close to the moon, only to realise – they can’t touch the moon.
It’s that low, when people disappoint you. It’s that low, when p
eople misunderstand you. It’s low, low and low. Like a hole.
We are afraid to show we are at the low, the society only wants to see Ferraris and FHM, pinnacles of success dotting the city skyline.
The low is not a new sensation to me, it’s an everyday sensation, that sensation that eats you starting from within your stomach, crawling outwards like a hungry worm, eating up your intestines, followed by your liver, and to the lungs. It then coils around your heart, and squeezes it slowly, like a coiling snake. Your heart stops beating, and you are left with the silence. The silence. The limbo. The limbo state whereby you do not know if it is a never ending dream – or reality. It’s a state that can last forever, or it is just a blink of an eye in the real world.
You wake up from the limbo. Another bad dream. You look at your Ferrari and wife. You drink another whiskey or two. The day starts again, from blank zero. You fight, kill, and force your way to the top. And when you are at the top, you realise that you had did it all for nothing. All these do not mean anything to you. They are things you can’t take with you to the next world.
I am at the low now, till I figure out what is my high.
I know writing is my high.
I might be back.
About AVER LIM
AVERRAL - The assertion of the truth. The creator behind The Scarlet Queen YouTube and Red Hourglass Novel Series.
She does experimental flash fiction on this blog, along with song, movies and character analysis using historical and literature references.
