Separated on the way home...

It’s just the two of us on our way home. We STROLLED in the park we pass by every time; I looked at you who would then smile at me.

As we HEADED home, I asked you “What would you do if one day we have to part ways?”

You said nothing as you held my hand tighter. We TREADED on the golden red leaves scattered on the floor as we looked up to the autumn night sky. Experiencing this night with you for the umpteenth time, it makes me a little sad as I know that one day we will have to part ways. Unknowingly, shadows lurking behind the trees SLINKED their way near us, watching our every move. I know that when it’s just the two of us, we don’t need words like ‘I love you’ to know each others feelings. So we walked together and enjoyed the scenery without knowing that it would be our last.

The shadows SNEAKED closer and closer as we neared your home. Knowing that I would have to leave you soon, you continued holding on tightly to my hand. I said nothing because no matter what, I would always be by your side. As I turned to look at you, I noticed something moving.

“Who goes there?” I countered.

As the figure stepped out into the light given out by the headlamp, the other figure found its way behind us. Without having time to react, you were restrained by it. You screamed and tried to fight your way through as I thought of a way to save you. Forgetting about the other figure, by the time I turned around to see if he was still there, a piercing pain stung my nervous system as I fell to my knees. You continued to shout my name as darkness engulfed me. My eyes closed by itself as I lay on the cold, bare ground. Your pained voice rang in my ears. I have lost you forever..

All about GLAMOUR

" Ladies and Gentlemen! Welcome to the 2007 Grand Opening of La Duex Fashion and Style!" A voice boomed from out of nowhere, shocking the crowd. Whispers filled the pitch black room, and after a few seconds of momentarily silence everything was still. Then cheers and people applauding at the maximum volume was heard from every single corner of the spacious room. The atmosphere was extremely superb!
With a click, a bright spot of light appeared right in the middle of the stage." Thank you! From all of us at La Duex, we would like to thank you all for coming today. I would like everyone enjoy this highly anticipated fashion show. Of course, enjoy the gorgeous models we have in line for you!" a man of great height and poise marched up into the limelight, chuckling at his little joke. " Models are important people in fashion shows. They carry attitude in what they are wearing and showing what the dress 'says' and with great skills, they show us using their body language. So, enjoy!"
A song blasted in the background competing with the thunderous applausethat followed. A tall and beautiful model strided out in a black, elegant, long evening. Absolutely stunning the crowd. Everyone admired the gown wishing it was their own.
Next, the young model dressed in mini dress practically sashayed out, like a young adult looking forward to the saturday night out. It was hip and chic. The model stopped at the end of the runway posing for the cameras. Bright flashes filled the room for those who wanted to keep a picture of lime green dress as a momento.
Cladded in a fashionable pink long top matching with brown belt. Accompanied with an ordinary but branded skinny jeans. Simple but with the finishing touch of the round sunhat, the outfit was simply extraordinary. A model with a face of a super star sauntered out from back stage as if she was just strolling along orchard road.
-->to be continued (if needed) (: ......
FELICIA%

kidnapped!!

Blackish puddles of rain and shoe-prints were collected on the wet pavement. His sodden shoes squelched with each step it took. Cool, chilly breeze swept pass as Tom wandered along the street, alone. However he only seemed alone. As he roamed along aimlessly, someone crept up from behind, seized him and blindfolded him. "Stop groping around you fool, or you'll be dead!" he spat. With the blade of the knife positioned right at Tom's neck, he continued to spew vicious threats and insults.

Slumped on the hard concrete, the mysterious person finally removed the tightly-banded blindfold. Glass window panes were clouded with overlapped prints made raindrops that had dried. Empty drink cans laid toppled on the rusty wooden table, ants were soldiering towards the content which had dribbled out. As he paced around Tom, he said smugly, "Oh, rich man's son. You've got dirty huh? Why don't you beg your father for some money to get new clothes?"He smirked, as he swaggered with hatred in his eyes. He wanted more than money...

Proudly presented by: Sophie =P

if only he could open his eyes

At the end of the street was a Victorian house, tarnishing blue roof top paint were peeling off. The only light source that was coming from inside the grand house was a dim orange-light chandelier hanging from the ceiling. There was a golden photo frame, sitting on a small lacquered wooden top coffee table. In its contents were three smiling faces, with eyes shining with great radiance. A happy bonded family. But soon, this picture would be torn apart, as their lives take a wrong turn

Their jubilation was short-lived. Peals of laughter turned to hostile, ominous mocking. Tom’s parents had an unpleasant fight. Now, they bristled at the mention of each others’ names, making no effort to hide their disdain. Family outings ponderously became strangers. The once adoring hugs changed to smouldering resentment .One evening my dad said placidly, “We have to talk.” His tone was subtle but firm. Undaunted, Tom’s mum followed his dad into the room. It dawned upon Tom that this might be the end of their past lives. He inched towards the door in small, measured steps. Peering through the ajar door, his mum’s face was rock-hard when his dad said with rolling deep voice, “Let’s divorce.” Mum nodded. Neither spoke nor asked questions. He took long breaths, trying to clear his head, trying to think. Wild fragmented thoughts raced through his mind. Will he be dumped at one of his relative’s houses? What will happen if he was left lingering in the dead silent street at night? Hatred filled him. They were selfish. True enough, he was forced to put up at Aunt Raju’s house. “Please take off your shoes before entering,” piped Aunt Raju. "If no one listens to me, then why should I care?" He glared at Aunt Raju, "Did my parents ask me before they had a divorce? Did they take me in?! No! They dumped me here!" Tom stomped into the house, not bothering to follow the instructions that were given to him. Months followed days. To Aunt Raju, Tom was nothing more than a trouble maker.

Through the months, Tom's hatred for his parents grew. They had dumped him, alone, in this lonely, horrible place. Why? He asked himself. Why did this unfortunate thing have to happen to him? Why did his parents have to do this to him?! He felt as if he was the only person in the entire world, with no one to talk to, no one to share his troubles with. He felt that no one trustworthy anymore! As his burden of hatred, loneliness, and hurt grew, he would imagine that his family was the most perfect family in the whole universe. However, he knew that would never, ever come true.

Then, one day, Aunt Raju announced that Tom's parents had planned a day out with him. She told him that he was to stay in his parent's house that night, so they could leave early the next day to for their planned day. They are just putting up a show, thought Tom, to make me think that they still love me, but that will never be true. That very night, as the broken family were preparing for dinner, the door lock clicked, showing that it was being unlocked. Following that, the door's handle turned, and a masked man busted through the door, brandishing a knife.

Instinctively Tom's parents formed a protective human barrier around him, bracing themselves for a fight and to protect their beloved only and son. However, Tom pushed between them and stood in front of them

"I have come to kill you! Your cousin, Slade, sent me! I shall kill the boy first, so he will remain silent forever!" He hollered, charging at Tom.

Tom's heart pounded in his chest. His heartbeat raced. I'm going to die! I'm going to die! I'm going to DIE! Thought Tom. His mother was too stunned to even blink. At the very last moment, Tom's father bent over him, using himself to shield his son. Still, Tom could peek through a gap between his father's head and upper arm. Then he felt a push, and witnessed the attacker’s knife blade slice into his father's bottom left back. Blood splurged out, and began to flow down, down, down. The crimson liquid stained his father's clothes, and laid a track down his legs, accumulating in a puddle under him. The attacker pulled then knife out of his flesh, and Tom's father jerked in perpetual pain. His body went limp, leaving Tom and his mother to support the burden. Tom fixed his gaze on his father's face, knowing that this was the very last time he would see it alive.

His father's face was stretched wide in horror and pain. His sides were heaving with effort.
"I...I love you..." He gasped. However, before he had time to absorb what had just happened, his mother was limp as well. Fear and horror struck Tom like a sledge hammer. His legs would no longer support him, and he let himself, and his parents fall. Tom felt no physical pain, but his heart had been emotionally ripped apart.

Suddenly, the attacker's walkie-talkie crackled to life. "Remember, the couple is childless." Immediately the masked man panted and ran out of the house. Tom's eyes trailed him, his heart filled with a new kind of hatred. He thought he hated his parents, but he did not want them to die, especially not in this way! Then he realized that his parents were trying to speak. "Even though we can no longer love each other any more than friends, that doesn’t mean that we don't love you anymore!" His mother gasped, her gaze was filled with endless love.

“We’ve always wanted the best for you! We love you much, much more than you think." His father stammered. Tears spilled from the family's six eyes as they were reunited. Tom wept. Then, the tears stopped flowing from first his mother, then his father. It was then that Tom realized that his parents were dead.

Grief overwhelmed him like a strong, fresh wave, drowning him in its endless depths. Agony and brokenness grew inside him. Now he was really alone! This hurt was too much for him to bear! All night, he sat by his parents' cold bodies, weeping and wailing and screaming and shouting. There was nothing left for him; everything was gone by the murderer’s hands.

If only Tom had opened his eyes that his parents actually loved him, he would not have felt this way. If only he had realized sooner, that the warmth that surrounded him in the beginning had never changed, he could have prevented this from happening. In his regretful state, all he could do was sit in his sorrow as his parents became a memory. As time passed like years in a century, he grew tired of crying. He withdrew into his shell as the world continues to revolve around him.

The below statement is true
The above statement is false

If he could only OPEN his eyes... ...

Only the echos of a basketball being dribbled, the pants of an exhausted student together with the shouts of a dedicated one-to-one personal coach, could be heard in the 600 seated school gym hall. "Give a three-pointer!" Coach said. "Dad! I am totally wiped out! Can I break? Afterwards, you can teach me your legendary star move." I whined on. "Take five! And I'm still your Coach!" responding to my complain.

Five minutes passed, my dad was standing in front of me teaching the correct techinque and style of his famous star move. The spotlights shone down on him and out crept a shadow I stepped into. A sudden grin swept across my face thinking of my lastest self-awareness achievement.

The strenuous training was over. I rested on the parque floor, my jersey sticking on my sweaty skin, gulping down bottles of water. Not long after Dad joined me by my side. Giving me a painful but playful nudge on the side of my body. I looked up saw two thumbs-up forming on my father's muscular hands. Smiling, my gaze shifted up to my father's face, in great admiration.

"You would be in perfect shape to gain the Best Player Award this year, if, you would just put some of the star moves I used in my times." the man looking at me with sweat dripping down from the very tip of his chin. "Dad! I told you before..." I replied with an agitated tone in my voice. "Alright! You need not get so worked up. I was just saying a IF." he interrupted as he sensed a match waiting to be lighted. Father was the famous scorer during his days, however due to his injury he could no longer play on the courts professional, and thus all his hope of completing his dream was pinned down on me. I was once never confident that I would be fulfilled until a life-inspiring day dawned upon me.

One morning after training, a group of my fellow teammates were huddling together in a circle, speaking in harsh tones about someone or someone. And, suprisingly I realised the person they were talking about was none other than me. Curious, I took a closer step behind them. Feeling bad about eaves-dropping, however, I did not regret hearing what they had to say.

"He keeps saying how much he wished could be like Coach. If only he could open his eyes, and see that he has much more potential than any of us here! He does not need to hide in his father's shadow all the time and follow everything his father does. He has a style of his own, and he just do not want to admit so. The potential in him is just like a prowling tiger waiting to pounce on its prey, waiting to be discovered..." That was all I needed to hear. It was enough for me. I went home pondering about what i had just heard.

After a while, I then realised that my friends were right. I was always trying to be like my father, which I will never be. Because I am not him.

During the next training , I dropped all the moves that Father taught me. All my mates were amazed at my sudden change in attitude and style, but not my coach." What are you doing? Why aren't you using the special moves you spent so much time to learn during extra practice?" he shouted at me across the court in great disappointment.

"Dad, I think it's time I do what I am made of and not what you want to make me into..." I boldly said to my father. Adding on, my father's favourite motto, with a grin. "You cant' check me." Not knowing what it really means.

`tHE eND~

Sophie's here...

Dots...hello,seemed that im the first one here...Four over one rocks, girls power.

byebye :)