Usually have a lot of things to say. Just no mood to blog. =x
25 years old.
NUS graduate.
Now earning a living as someone who has to speak properly, spell properly, write properly.
No I'm not working for Sesame street!
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Sunday, August 15, 2004
Pouring. Chapter 1.
by Trent.
The sky breaks into thunder, as flashes of lightning appear at random intervals. It's sunday, but there is no sun. Trent hates it when there's no sun. Plus he wasn't really happy to begin with.
No. Our dear hero is feeling moody today. He opens the window, and as the wind gushes against his moody face, he sees a bird.
A crow.
Isn't like any other crow, Trent observed. This crow has a little red brush of a blemish on its little neck. Looks like paint. Must be the neighbouring block undergoing construction.
Trent is curious, because the crow patches itself on the tree branch so firmly, sort of oblivious to the high knotting winds around it.
The crow stares at Trent, as if understanding Trent's inquisitive gaze. Then the crow did something.
It looked at Trent, then its head tilted down facing the ground before recovering.
This startled Trent, because Trent has never seen a bird from close up, much less one which gestured at him? Was the crow trying to tell him something. Trent thought. Trent looked down at the ground. There was nothing to be seen.
But Trent thinks alot. Trent's friends think he thinks alot. So Trent thinks it's better not to think so much now.
Before he knew the crow was gone.
Trent desperately peeked his head out of the window and looked around. But of course the crow was not to be found.
The first raindrops fell and Trent closed his window and went back to his seat. It was a perculiar sequence of events. Trent tuned in to some nice music.
Rain finally stopped. Trent opened the window. Only to find a crow on the ground. Trent doesn't know if it's the same crow. There was no longer a red mark on the neck; perhaps the rain washed it away. It was drenched. It didn't move. Was it dead? Trent wasn't sure. He left the house and rushed downstairs so he could attend to the crow.
~
To be continued......
triggering Mr Ng HS |
by Trent.
The sky breaks into thunder, as flashes of lightning appear at random intervals. It's sunday, but there is no sun. Trent hates it when there's no sun. Plus he wasn't really happy to begin with.
No. Our dear hero is feeling moody today. He opens the window, and as the wind gushes against his moody face, he sees a bird.
A crow.
Isn't like any other crow, Trent observed. This crow has a little red brush of a blemish on its little neck. Looks like paint. Must be the neighbouring block undergoing construction.
Trent is curious, because the crow patches itself on the tree branch so firmly, sort of oblivious to the high knotting winds around it.
The crow stares at Trent, as if understanding Trent's inquisitive gaze. Then the crow did something.
It looked at Trent, then its head tilted down facing the ground before recovering.
This startled Trent, because Trent has never seen a bird from close up, much less one which gestured at him? Was the crow trying to tell him something. Trent thought. Trent looked down at the ground. There was nothing to be seen.
But Trent thinks alot. Trent's friends think he thinks alot. So Trent thinks it's better not to think so much now.
Before he knew the crow was gone.
Trent desperately peeked his head out of the window and looked around. But of course the crow was not to be found.
The first raindrops fell and Trent closed his window and went back to his seat. It was a perculiar sequence of events. Trent tuned in to some nice music.
Rain finally stopped. Trent opened the window. Only to find a crow on the ground. Trent doesn't know if it's the same crow. There was no longer a red mark on the neck; perhaps the rain washed it away. It was drenched. It didn't move. Was it dead? Trent wasn't sure. He left the house and rushed downstairs so he could attend to the crow.
~
To be continued......
triggering Mr Ng HS |