Two Doors

A man wakes up to find himself in a white empty room. The walls are white and blank, the ceilings are white, the floor is just one white board with no tiles. In this room there are two doors marked A and B. The man knows what is behind Door A ( don’t ask me how he knows ) – all the things that he enjoy, be it activities or objects. A place where he thinks he could find happiness. The door is decently decorated with a rose hanging just below the letter ‘A’.

Door B is more elaborately decorated than Door A, with a large bouquet hung where the rose would be. The man is not too sure about what’s behind this door. Judging from the appearance of the door, he figures it would lead him to a pretty fun place but whether he will find true happiness is unknown.

The man decides to open Door A ( he has to open a door if he were to leave this strange room ). In he goes and he sees the rays of the sun filtering through the canopy of trees. He walks on the soft grassy path slowly, but as he begins to trust his environment, he quickens his steps.

Then out of nowhere springs out a grey wolf. The wolf stares at him with black menacing eyes and lets out a cold mist as he snarls at the visitor. The man is taken aback by the wolf’s presence but tries another step forward, only for the wolf to growl loudly and make one leap forward, landing just in front of him.

The man knows the wolf is not there to eat him; rather he is a guardian of this mysterious place and obviously does not allow him to tread further. So the wolf escorts the man all the way to the door and as he steps back into the white room, the door shuts.

So back in this white cell, the man is looking over at Door B. Should he make his escape through this door? Having seen the wolf behind Door A, what dangerous creatures lurk behind Door B? And if there are any, would he be lucky enough to escape unharmed this time round?

Then he looks at Door A. He has already seen for himself the beauty of the world behind that door. But how is he going to get past the guardian wolf?

The man slumps against the far wall and ponders over his escape plan.

Door A, or B? You choose the answer.

Sniper

A typical sniper works alone, or in a two-man team.

On his own, the sniper has to locate the target, find his own spot, do all the necessary calculations, take the shot and exfiltrate. If anything goes wrong, there is no rescue team for the sniper.

The sniper is a master of patience. Walking on foot through jungle, desert or arctic terrain is tiring, and staying concealed and motionless at his hiding spot is an art. Having his sights trained on the target, the sniper must work out the elevation of his shot so that his accuracy will not be affected by wind or gravity. When he is sure that the bullet will pass through the target’s head, his index finger slowly pulls the trigger – any slight jerk on the rifle will disrupt the bullet’s path altogether.

If the target falls, he has fulfilled his objective. If not, the missed shot will raise the alarm and the sniper has to leave his hiding spot immediately. He could choose to track down the escaping target, or scrap the mission altogether. If he chooses the former, the target becomes harder to locate; security around him is tightened and the sniper faces more pressure to kill him the next time round. But again, he is trained to kill and will not give up easily unless it is an emergency.

If he decides to escape back to base, he risks being pursued by the enemy. If he survives, his after-action-report will be negative.

The sniper’s spotter helps him find targets, as his name implies. He uses the rangefinder or binoculars to determine the distance to the target, and assists the sniper in calculating wind speed and direction. He is also armed with an assault rifle to protect the sniper throughout the mission. The sniper’s safety is his responsibility.

Our Mind

Our mind is like a piece of clay.

You mould it, you shape it, you make it the way you want it.

But sometimes you cannot control its evolution.

Our mind is like a television set.

It plays images which are ambiguous and fuzzy and keeps us guessing.

When you switch off, it turns on. When it breaks down, so do you.

Our mind is like a bomb.

When it blows, you cannot piece together the fragments you gather.

And you had better watch out, because the timer is ticking.

Seasons

In spring he lay the seeds and watered the soil.

In the summer he caught fish and hunted game.

In autumn he dug a hole in the ground and roasted sausages.

In the winter he lay in the hole and six feet above the flowers were buried in white.

Sorry for the least creative post as I have been drained by four consecutive days of training.

Splinter Cell : Conviction Prologue ( Test )

This is a test starter which could probably help you readers generate feedback, especially on the first-person style of writing. Another test post for Painkiller would probably be online tomorrow, so do hope to hear from you guys. Thanks.

Future Projects Which Await Your Approval

Greetings readers. Must have been a while since I last updated this blog because I had a hectic schedule for the past few months. Now I am taking a short breather from the exams last week and here is a lowdown on some short story ideas which I have come up with. I would like to hear from you as to which short story would interest you the most because I think I only have time to work on one storyline. Do give me ideas on how to improve my storyboard as well. Much appreciated.

Orange Fishes

Inside the aquarium of green, black and white,
there used to be many fish tanks, a total of forty nine.
Fishes that were red, blue, yellow and green,
But orange was the colour always seen.

“Overcrowding!” exclaimed the aquarium’s directors.
“We need to move the orange fishes.”
So eighteen of them were put in their new home,
in tank fifty they were allowed to roam.

But in the first few days the fishes were shy,
they swam in their own little groups, don’t ask why.
Until they finally opened up, thanks to a outgoing leader,
that they began swimming in the tank together.

The Traveler

I got the inspiration for this story from “The Alchemist” by Paulo Coelho. I have not read the book yet and only used the idea of traveling to a remote place as a guideline for the following story. Don’t forget to leave a comment!

*****

He pushed away the leaves, and alas, his eyes had not fooled him all along. Standing before him was the same structure he had seen four hundred metres down his current spot, just much more clearer as his vision was not obscured by the mist.

The temple was a little rundown, with walls missing stone bricks and a small plant sprouting from the corner of the roof. But he knew he was at the right place – the two pillars at the entrance each had a picture of a ram engraved on them. The building was a small solitary structure with three storeys, but even if the monks had wanted to expand there would not have been enough space since the temple was built near the edge of the mountain.

Carter checked his instrument readings and realised he had climbed over a kilometre to reach this sacred place. For the past three days he had hiked through a grassland which got less dense as he climbed higher. The path which he used could only be made out by the difference in length of the grass, displaying the rarity in which the route had been treaded on. He was careful not to walk in circles, which would have resulted in him walking a much longer distance. In fact, there had been so many climbers who were not careful to watch their direction and wasted precious time, many of whom had given up halfway or perished due to a lack of food or water.

So now, he had finally made it. He would have put himself in the history books, just like the other few who had reached this place before him. But they would never be heard of after that. Their only proof of ever reaching the temple was by word of the local guide who accompanied them all the way to the top. What happened during their visit was never known.

The Penguin Speaks

Words Cast In Ice is my latest experiment to concoct any inspirations in my head into a piece of creative writing, be it a poem or a short story. I used to write video game novelizations but recently I have decided to try broader themes, and as such utilize different forms of writing techniques. Fear not, contrary to what the blog title may suggest, my posts generally will not be cold and cynical, though there may be times when I touch on darker themes. But that will not be a trend, I promise you.

Hope the convenience of writing on WordPress may encourage me to write regularly, though I must admit that it will not be updated as often as regular blogs due to my tight schedule. Hope to garner a healthy readership and see constructive comments on my posts in the months to come.

Check back soon!