Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Argh jackjack's adapter is like super loose.
Shit nevermind I'll get a new one soon.
Apokalypse would have been a much better movie if wasn't for all the cleavage.
Haha you can see boobs here and there.
No wonder it was NC16.
Hmmm cousins & visitors came over to my house for this fourth day of chinese new year.
Ohwell I think I kinda resolved some of my tiredness having a nap that lasted for around 2 hours.
Oh and and won 20bucks plus today in gamble not bad huh.
Tomorrow's another day.
Hope getting back emaths result.
HAH fatimah, don & demello shall owe me drinks if they score better than me.
Which by the way was a little surprised demello was lactose-intolerant too.
---
The flowers here are like paintings, the child thought, laughing as he ran across the meadow. He wished his parents had come along. But his parents were busy pitching camp.
'Don't explore too far,' his mother had said.
He had pretended not to hear as he bounded off into the woods.
Now, traversing the glorious field, the boy came across a pile of fieldstones. He figured it must be the foundation of an old homestead. He would not go near it. He knew better. Besides, his eyes had been drawn to something else - a brilliant lady's slipper - the rarest and most beautiful flower in New Hampshire. He had only ever seen them in books.
Excited, the boy moved toward the flower. He knelt down. The ground beneath him felt mulchy and hollow. He realised his flower had found an extra fertile spot. It was growing from a patch of rotting wood.
Thrilled by the thought of taking home his prize, the boy reached out... fingers extending toward the stem.
He never reached it.
With a sickening crack, the earth gave way.
In the three seconds of dizzying terror as he fell, the boy knew he would die. Plummeting downward, he braced for the bone-crushing collision. When it came, there was no pain. Only softness.
And cold.
He hit the deep liquid face first, plunging into a narrow blackness. Spinning disoriented somersaults, he groped the sheer walls that enclosed him on all sides. Somehow, as if by instinct, he sputtered to the surface.
Light.
Faint. Above him. Miles above him, it seemed.
His arms clawed at the water, searching the walls of the hollow for something to grab onto. Only smooth stone. He had fallen through an abandoned well covering. He screamed for help, but his cries reverberated in the tight shaft. He called out again and again. Above him, the tattered hole grew dim.
Night fell.
Time seemed to contort in the darkness. Numbness set in as he treaded water in the depths of the chasm, calling, crying out. He was tormented by visions of the walls collapsing in, burying him alive. His arms ached with fatigue. A few times he thought he heard voices. He shouted out, but his own voice was muted... like a dream.
As the night wore on, the shaft deepened. The walls inched quietly inward. The boy pressed out against the enclosure, pushing it away. Exhausted, he wanted to give up. And yet he felt the water buoy him, cooling his burning fears until he was numb.
When the rescue team arrived, they found the boy barely conscious. He had been treading water for five hours. Two days later, the Boston Globe ran a front-page story called 'The Little Swimmer That Could.'
---
Notoriously, the boy was granted with the phobia of enclosed spaces.
If he hadn't had tried to reach for the flower.
He wouldn't had been given such a condemned fear.
However he managed to survive,
Though the well was deep and almost impossible to get out from.
I have a dream to be better.
&I intended to fulfill it no matter what happens.
