just a couple of stories that i copy from A City of Shared Stories Kuala Lumpur..
something to ponder...
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Zack was dead. They couldn't reach the hospital in time. The knife in his gut had been too deep, everything was over too quickly. Remy, who was driving, stopped when he heard her scream. There was blood all over the back seat where she was with Zack, but only one of them was breathing.
"Is he...is he...?" Remy asked.
She was angry with him for being too timid to even finish the question. But she was actually angry at Zack. Why did he have to respond to that provocation at the bar? Couldn't he just have walked away? He'd expected a fistfight in the car-park, like the last time. But nobody realised how ugly things would get.
She could smell what he had been drinking, it was very obvious even through his blood-frothed lips. In a daze, she wondered at how real blood looked just like blood in the movies. As in: it looked fake. Ready to be wiped off for the next take. But Zack would have no second takes.
Remy started kicking the car-door. Straight from timidity to useless aggression. She wished he'd be silent; there was already enough noise in her head.
She knew she had to say something to mark the death. Something to do with Allah, of course. But what was it? She couldn't remember, or maybe she never really knew. But she had to say it now.
"Alhamdulillah," she blurted out. And then instantly knew that was wrong. Isn't that something you said when you were glad? But no other word came to mind. So she said it again and again. "Alhamdulillah. Alhamdulillah. Alhamdulillah."
She hoped Allah knew what she really meant to say. But of course Allah would know.
Wouldn't He?* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Look at the girl behind you!”Shaza’s eyes glittered with amazement.
I spun around and saw a tall fair girl with an hour-glass body shape, garbed with very tight gaudy dress.
“She is very beautiful!” her face creased with jealousy. “I wish I could be beautiful like her”.
I gawped at the so-called beautiful girl. Yes, I could not deny she was very stunning. Her skinny long legs, her flawless face and her voluptuous body attracted the eyes of men around here.
“Well, my perception of beauty is different”, I said nonchalantly while taking a sip of my Nescafe.
“Different?” She was nonplussed. “What do you mean?”
“The term beautiful in my dictionary is when a person still does good things to others even though people step him or her countless times, never had any grudges on others despite the ill-treatment and still curves a smile to such people”.
“That sounds an idiot to me”, she scoffed.
“No, that is the real beauty. It is perpetual and everlasting.Meanwhile, the fake one will only create a mirage as if it will last forever.”
I spun around and caught the so-called beautiful girl showed her middle finger at the old cleaning lady’s back.* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
nota kaki:
- tak tahu nak letak label apa..
- so,the weekend has already come to the end... life starts again with the same routine.. hope i can make some changes..
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