Marry My Ghost

Footsteps pounded on the pebbled ground in the rain tonight, splashing water and drips of mud around as the boots advanced. The thick raincoat swayed hastily in all directions as if attempting to catch up with the speed.

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Work of art by Alicia Leng.

I stopped writing to look out from my window and noticed the dark shadow of a woman sliding past the wall of cold, lifeless stones caught my eye. Eager to find out who that was, I picked up courage and dashed downstairs, out of the door of my apartment. The footsteps were still ringing clearly at the other end of the alley. I followed the direction of the sound.

Quick. I had to be quick.

At the end of the alley, however, I could find no shady woman. No black raincoat. No heavy shoes.

There was a lamp-post standing at the wall. Its light was weak and flickering, as if agonizing over every last breath that it had left.

Something gleamed from a bundle of old cloth hanging from the wall. It was an old mirror, about eight feet in height.

Pulling the cloth down, I hurriedly wiped off the centuries-old dust with my bare hands. They were wet from the rain, so cleaning a little was fairly easy. But then – my heart stopped.

My very own reflection. She was looking hard into my eyes, trying to speak to me. Her pallid face was a beautifully molded plastic mask that shone in the dark, the only source of light. I instantly fell for her. It was madness!

Could she possibly be me? Her beauty was perplexing; but was it really her after all, sneaking up through the alley at this time of the night to catch my attention, only to lock herself in an old mirror? I was spellbound; I couldn’t think rationally.

She raised her right hand and touched the glass from the other side, as if to answer the thousands of thoughts that were speeding through my mind like a bullet train – and I raised mine. I did not know why I did but I just followed her. Her palm touched mine… and in the next instant, a mighty force tugged me hard into the mirror, away from the physical world and all its beauty where I used to belong.

THE END

Red Scarlet

Postscript: Some say that when you have loved yourself too much, you start falling in love with all your dark secrets and truth. When you have become so enchanted with your own inner world, everything else that is in existence no longer matters anymore. You pick up the pieces of the past and put them together. You speak to your heart. And you become one with your soul.

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Burning Alive

The cotton pashmina that veiled the lady’s beautiful mind – it fluttered in the gentle wind as she glided gallantly down the ivory steps of the ruins of the fire-beaten Colossal pillars, her velvety dress sailing along.  Nothing was visible save her darkly distinguishable kohl hazel-brown eyes.  The light that shone through those piercing eyes burned everything she saw into flames.  But she did not seem afraid.

In a second little fairies appeared in the air; they flew around her, following her in a little camaraderie.  They tweeted cheerfully, with such childlike merriment and vigor.   She did not stop in her march.

Where did she come from?  Why was she heading to the fire with such passionate intent?

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Listen… listen closely.  Feel… feel naturally.  Think… think carefully.  Life waltzes in its own majestic ways.  No one could ever imagine how journeys would end, drastically, or with a tinge of fantasy.  One may lose himself in the tangle of cobwebs, but yes, he will cut his way out and yes, he will find his way through.  Darkness may plunge the anguished soul into the depths of the abyss where gargantuan monsters lie, waiting to gulp down a good meal.  Gunshots may fell the body into pits of raging fire, melting the skin, eating away at the muscles.

But you know what?  He will make it through.  He will push his way up, regardless of how thick the gooey mess he is in.  He will emerge from the pain of having his growing body held captive in the seemingly shrunken cocoon.

Today is Malaysia Day, and I have been spending the early hours of the morning to contact a few psychologists for interviews as part of my university project.  I have also spent a huge amount of time talking to my business partners about the event I am planning to hold soon.

The searing pain in the head; let it go, let it go.  It is hard to forget the past so sweet and which told of a future that was meant to be.  It is all a learning process anyhow, although it is hard to accept.  If only time could turn back its hands and work in reverse.

But how is that even possible?

I made a vow when I left: That I am going to heal like the issue never existed in the first place.  I am going to swing on my chandelier from out of your grasp, back to where I belong.  I am very aware of my points of origin, and whatever else I am doing.  I have given my best, too.  It is only for you to take it or leave it.  Whatever it is, you are still a part of me.

Love,

Red Scarlet

Heartbeat

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Do I look like I have won a battle in my dreams or something? (Photo credits to Ekamil Razali)

At times I find myself blungeoning deep down into the abyss of deeply-crested emotions.  My self is lost, fully submerging into an array of resounding heartbeats that pierce through the ear canal with as much pitch as the sound of gunshot.  As I descend, countless questions bombard my existence, some so easy I could simply hurl them back wherever they came from, some so difficult they nearly crush me with all their weight.

In all the mania of drama, yes, I am in reality, hurt.  Tired of the predispositions I have been placed in.  For no one knows not what I long for.  There exists this consistent battle between the silent heart and the beautiful mind.  Sometimes, the heart wins; sometimes, the mind.  Sometimes the heart and mind find a way to work together amicably, amidst all battle – and that, I tell you, that is a very funny thing.

Which is so because they have to please the Soul, a wondrous piece of art, mere atoms framed synchronously in position.  For the body is to live.

And when this occurs, gallant music orchestrates out from within the Chambers of Life, through the arteries, all the way up to the Pineal Gland, where the Soul sits.  His Eyes gaze forbiddingly, as if he had been forced to wait for the answers for too long.  His Ears catch the first notes of violin softly humming from far below.  Slowly, gradually, the harmony echoes through the empty space of flesh and blood, filling the entire abode of humanity.  As if the battle has been won.  It has, in its own way.

As for the Body – She triumphs.

Red Scarlet

If You Looked at Love Hard Enough

Could you name me a certain film that does not have any love theme?  Kind of hard, isn’t it?

Films and music videos and dramas – stage art, as a matter of fact – really have a sort of influence over the complex ideologies of love.  It just crossed my choo-choo train of thoughts these very words from a song of a 90’s band The Corrs that goes along the lines of: “I will run away, I will run away with you.”

Oh, how sweet that would be.  But it is a little too idealistic, is it not?  Because love, no matter how gentle or how vulgar – love sells.

I told a playwright friend I will turn up with a post on the very same subject, with the very same title, If You Look At Love Hard Enough by Mat Atahari.  And in the state of meshiness (pardon the pun) my mind is caught up in, I shall write this little prose, regardless of what you presume. Hopefully it will give a little insight into my understanding of the subject matter at hand.

(Photograph courtesy of Alicia Ai Leng)

Is love for real, or is it void? (Photograph courtesy                          of Alicia Ai Leng)

If you looked at love hard enough

You will find a way

Even when the going gets tough

If you looked at love hard enough

You will cherish each day

Oh, and never once let out a gruff

If you looked at love hard enough

You will do what you can

Forgive me, and look pass

If you looked at love hard enough

All the pain sheds away

Grace befalls everyday

Leave the trivial stuff 

Oh, yeah.  Period.

The Write Project

My mind has been loitering on a wandering trail for the past few months.  Not that my lips cried, but my brains could not keep their silence.  It was as if life edged by a rocking boat in turbulent waters, and all the soul could possibly do was sit and watch.  And think, too.  Perhaps.  If it were possible.

In the joyous reunion of the family, I felt my essence sui generis slipping away, bit by bit, into the stark madness of reality. More and more I was drowning away in a plenitude of data, most nothing but cold hard facts, and facts, and facts.  And then came the time where I was asked to ask myself: What am I doing?  Where am I heading?  Is this what I want to do? For the last question, of course, the answer is undoubtedly clear – yes, of course!  But how?  What?  Why? Where would I lose myself to?

It is agonizing, considering the workload I am facing, and yet it is simply a part of the process. Which path was I walking?  Whose path?  What did I want, inherently, in the end?  I was always in the have-to, but no-time situation.  But I shall not deny that worklife has absorbed a great deal of me, so now I am hard at play retrieving it.  It was as if I been prancing about in a drunken stupor, but nevertheless the questions kept on pressing endlessly.

Stop, stop, stop.  Please!  This echoed through my head.  It had to, correct?  It is probably my identity crisis as a psychopathic writer, where I let go of all responsibilities and allow myself to explore.  And explore I have – I am still at it, to be frank.  Anyway, it is safe to say that I have been hanging around the wrong loop, and therefore it necessitates me to make a reverse turn to continue the walk.  Or the run, rather.  I have been using much time.  This year, however, my writing has brought me to another level, and I am required to prepare write-ups for website content.  It is not exactly what I want – for I really, really do want to grab hold of a drama director by the wrist, and demand that he allow me to screen-write.  JS (which stand for just saying).  But my emotions speak for themselves.  I have been waiting much too long.

Slowly, though. All the exploring and traveling has made me immensely sleepy.  It is necessary that I listen closely to my heartbeat – no distractions!  Ihrer haben ein solch guten tag.  Und ich liebe dich.

#TheWriteProject #theLadyintheRedScarfMindTalks #amwriting

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