...I should be sleeping.
The pictures of the Last Day of School will be posted when I come back (:
And to clear up some mistakes in the Looking Glass 2008,
My name is Christine Ling. Not Christie nor Chrisline Ling.
I did not willingly submit Memories.
The Bargain was by Michelle Goh of 2A1, not Sim May Yee.
Sim May Yee isn't in 2A1, I'm sorry to say... And isn't her 'story' more like a drama/script? So they should have added more paragraphs/spaced them out.
Jasmine Phang's poem was supposed to remain entirely anonymous. Who was the bloody idiot who wrote her name in the end? Stupid. They even included the anonymous. Imbecile.
Her name is Emmeline, not Emmerlin, and she's from 2A2, not 2A3 you bunch of bloody idiots.
You forgot to write Alicia's name right under her story title: Lime. The Looking Glass really needs proof-readers.
They should have had enough sense to switch fonts for Brenda Ngu's story since she had a letter involved. Now it's rather confusing.
Who can read the words The Looking Glass Magazine Committee 2008? It like blends into the background. And the BI editors names' are not supposed to be behind the people. Anyway, right to left: Elaine Yong, Nishanti Ranee, Pn. Chan Leh Na, Claire Chang and Chong Lip Yi.
They forgot to put the council's posts in the Tingkatan 2 Pengawas. Ain't that important, but I'm feeling bitchy. Am so angry.
Baris 1 dari kiri: Rebecca Su (Ketua Unit Disiplin), Lillian Binjan (Ketua Unit Pengawasan Kelas), Christine Ling (Ketua Unit Rondaan dan Keselamatan), Eleena Bakrie (Timb. Ketua Pengawas I), Pan Eu Fern (Ketua Pengawas), Pn. Jamilah Apandi, Cik Sita Lahap, Choo Mei Yuin (Timb. Ketua Pengawas II), Melissa Kuek (Ketua Unit Kebersihan dan Keceriaan), Alicia Eng (Ketua Unit Perhimpunan), Nurul Nadia (Ketua Unit Sosial dan Kebajikan).
And there's a glitch in the Secebis Kenangan.
But yeah, my main anger generated from the stories. Arghhh.
And this is for Phoba, because her story didn't make it into the magazine. Though I think that's just because it's
Disclaimer: I repeat, I did NOT write this. Full credits belong to Phoebe Ng of 2A1, 2008.
MASSACRE
Last night I could not sleep even though it was almost the crack of dawn. I lay in my cold, hard bed staring at the ceiling. My mind was whirling. Fear, guilt, shock and pleasure tangled up into little knots; it was hard to sort them out. Part of me could not believe what I had done that sinful evening yet part of me felt a twinge of pleasure. If it were not for them, I would not have been in this state of misery and excruciating pain. If it were not for them I would not have been trapped in that bloody past like a weak baby bird trapped in a cage far too small for it to even move an inch. The bloody past that had me woken up in the middle of the night drenched in cold sweat; the bloody past that had my heart hammering against my rib cage every time I close my eyes. It was all too painful to live with. The only thing that held me back from taking my life was the ounce of sanity still left inside of me – I had to suffer as my act of repentance of what I had committed. Their humiliation only made things harder for me. The gory memory haunted my thoughts and I remembered it as if it had just happened yesterday.
It all started when I was just a mere teenager. I was being laughed at; spat at even. Why? Because no normal teenager would have a chunk of flesh growing out from their nose or a hideous scar running down their right cheek. I was ashamed of my distorted looks but I had learnt to turn on a deaf ear to any insult that was thrown at me. Sometimes I felt like exploding but I knew better than to lose control. But at times, a part of me buried deep down inside, behind all the great effort of trying to blend in with everyone, I was beginning to feel the rage and turmoil seeping out. Why disgrace someone who was even afraid of looking at herself in the mirror? Hard though I had tried to keep my patience, I could sense that my grip is beginning to slip bit by bit. It was only a matter of time before all hell breaks loose.
I was on my way to my first PE lesson and I was already late. Some jerk had crept into my dorm and set off the alarm clock. I hurried into the locker room and started to change. I slipped into my sport shoes and shut my dented locker. The other girls loved to damage anything that was mine. They said it matches my looks. I had ignored their peals of laughter and the strong urge to knock them out cold. I ran into the gym and saw that the lesson had already begun.
Mrs. Simone saw me and beckoned me to her side – a kind smile on her wrinkled face. She was the only teacher who was kind to me. The others were hostile and unreceptive. As I walked towards her, I became aware as the class grew silent. All eyes were on me. By the time I reached her side, my face had turned beet red. How long do I have to endure all this?
I tried to fight the urge to break down just then. But I was not going to humiliate myself anymore than I already did. I noticed a new girl who had just joined our class. She was tall, slender and attractive – in other words: perfect. I was fixated by her until our teacher interrupted my thoughts. I was asked to clean the gym after the lesson with the new girl.
So after the lesson, I hastily changed back into my T- shirt and tattered jeans. I went to the storeroom and took out the mop, eager to finish the task so that I could go back to my dorm. I headed back into the gym and saw the new girl sitting on a bench eating an apple. She took one glance at me and smiled mockingly. I turned to go but she called after me, “Hey you ugly swine!” she yelled at me and sniggered. I was beginning to feel infuriated.
I turned and told myself that she was just a stupid girl when her apple hit me hard on the back of my head. It had hurt like hell and she had laughed. I turned around and glowered at her laughing figure. Suddenly it hit me hard that it was all too much to bear with; too much to bear with since the very beginning. I grabbed her half-eaten apple from the floor and stormed towards her. Hatred and disgust exploded inside me. I had enough. I grabbed hold of her neck and forced the apple into her mouth, choking her. I throttled her until her face turned purple. She gasped for breath but the apple stuck in her throat made the effort futile. Her sharp nails clawed at my face and hands but I felt no shred of pain despite the drops of blood that begin to form. What affect is pain inflicted on my body compared to the hurt I felt inside for so many years? – Nothing. I smashed her skull against the wall continuously. The gags and muffled screams soon died away as she went limp. I slackened my grip and she dropped dead into the pool blood at my feet. I looked down at the bloody and ugly figure lying motionless on the floor. For a moment I felt numb. Then I begin to get my senses back. “That bitch deserved it,” I said to myself. “All of them deserve it. I will make all of you pay!” I screamed.
I ran and ran until I reached the school kitchen. It was out of bounds but not a single soul was around. I turned on every single gas tank and for a moment I let the fumes fill up my lungs. I never felt so agitated before in my life. A small voice at the back of my mind urged me to stop but I shut it out as thoughts of all those excruciating memories came flooding back into my mind. That was my chance to strike back at them. “It is high time they know how much I had to endure all these years,” I murmured as I walked some distance away from the school. “Soon it will only be piles of ashes left,” I said. I threw the lighted match into the kitchen before I had any qualms. The whole kitchen exploded and it took less than five minutes for the blistering flames to spread to the entire school. All chances of escape were made impossible as the blazing fire had blocked every exit.
I watched from a distance as my school was burnt down; engulfed in fiery inferno and thick, black smoke. I could hear the people inside screaming their lungs out before the hungry flames melt them down. I watched as a few figures tumbled out from the hellhole, on fire like human torch. I sniggered and turned away. I walked down the road in hysterics.
The next day, I saw news on my burnt-down school. No one had managed to survive and several fire-fighters were even badly injured. Pride swelled in my chest but it had subsided like the waves in the ocean. I had taken my revenge and this vengeance had never been so sweet, but why was I not feeling any better? Little by little I walked towards the police station. Remorse blanketed my emotions and I watched as the clouds above my head darkened, blocking out daylight, casting a gloomy atmosphere around me. That was how I ended in this cold, dark room; never to see freedom again. It was all I could offer to the burnt souls… I’m sorry.
By Phoebe Ng,
2A1
