Exercise 6 – True and False Stories.

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Story A:

Soner glances at his bed, as though it is his sanctuary of salvation to the unceasing flow of projects. Lethargy and fatigue are pervading every single atom of his weary anatomy. He lumbers unstably, his mind is in a perpetual state. He tries to keep his eyes open, but the midnight atmosphere is creating a perfect context for him to doze off. He gives in to the alluring bed next to his work desk and falls immediately, he is released from the fast paced reality and enters a state shrouded in nothing but darkness. His eyelids are heavily weighted down by those vicious project, they might never open again. He enters a convalescent mode, an opportunity or sensation he is deprived of for the past insomniac nights.

Just when he is enjoying the smooth and soft texture of his bed, there is a sudden tug at the back of his head. He starts to be conscious of this subtle pulling force, he does not want to lose his state of consciousness to this anomaly. His mind is gradually being siphoned by this entity and he is struggling to resist it. An obscure feeling starts to breed literally in the middle of his head, it dilates rapidly from the middle portion until it reaches its limitation at the ears.

“yiiiiiiiii……kinnnnnn….”
A high frequency sound let off like a vortex in Soner’s Head for as fast as 5 seconds.

There’s a momentary screech of high frequency that Soner’s vibes are too weak to withstand it. It is tantamount to that of whales but it sounds much more horrifying. His heart is racing every second as he struggles to get salvation from his little bit of consciousness left. He has just realised that this isn’t an act or fortuitous occurrence, he starts to surmise that it is something pertaining to the paranormal.

“What is this? Are you trying to exorcise my brain? STOP THAT NOISE”
Soner tries his futile attempt to disarm this obstreperous high frequency “vortex”.He tries to move his hands, but it just wouldn’t heed to his command.

His body parts are being shackled by invisible chains and his expressions were being torn apart, eyes rolling rapidly in its eye sockets.

It keeps reappearing profusely after it subsides.

Soner’s state of mind is in a liminality, ostensibly caught in between consciousness and the subtle anomaly. His willpower is what is opposing this unrelenting force of the unknown, but it is not suffice to even mitigate the high pitch screech.

“Damn it, this isn’t going anywhere, you think this simple thing can shackle my willpower, don’t underestimate me mon!”

He makes a breakthrough by opening his eyelids but there’s an elusive force driving it downwards, what he experiences is some blur motion as his eyes blink in quick successions.

Gradually the chains and bonds suppress his thoughts of escaping, his eyelids shut and he capitulates to the anomaly.

“LIKE I WILL DO THAT! HAHA!”

His consciousness level fluctuates at such an unpremeditated moment, that it even catches the anomaly off guard. He thrusts the direction of his soul upwards , trying to break the bonds restraining it. His sudden surge of dominance over his whole power nullified that anomaly. His soul is trying to move out of this perpetual state, as he open his trembling and weary eyelids, he sees what appears to be lateral vision of both his hands. The uplift of his soul apparently separates itself from the flesh. This is not waking up from a dream like what Soner hopes to achieve, it is paradoxically a terror that is beyond human comprehension.

His soul is almost detached from the body, save for the tenacious chains at the top of his head. It causes his state of mind to be stuck in liminality again.

Just when he is expecting the occurrence of that vortex again…..

“SHinnnn shuuuuuu shinnnnnnnnnnn”

“Yinnnnnnnnnnn EEEEEEEEEEK AIIIIIIIIIII”

“Sooooooooohhhhhhh YIINNNNNNNN EEEEK”

Random sounds of totally HIGH frequency strikes his vulnerable nutshell again but this time it is in rapid successions. His vibes are unable to discern those chaotic noises and gibberish. Gibberish is not a viable word to describe his experience, those sounds are totally off the boundaries of reality, it is so otherworldly. Soner has never sensed such trepidation in his life, the sound waves are something at a larger magnitude than the word “vile”.

As he tunnels his vision directly in front of him, he can slowly discern a few apparitions in the mist. They are blurry and no doubt, they are of a different entity. They are gesturing and their anatomy gives off a blight of animosity. It is equivalent to all horrors of the world constituting to this ominous entity. High frequency screeching starts to strike his ear again as he attempts to move closer to identify their irregular shapes and forms.

Suddenly a voice in his head verbally enlightens and halts all his hunger to know.
“You do not want to know, you will not wish to know…….how horrifying the world existing paradoxically to yours is. This is not similar to fiction, sci-fiction or even the paranormal, the appearances of those entities might traumatize you for your entire life, it will distort and destroy the very thin line between abnormal and normal.”

A sense of overwhelming consternation increases the threshold of his amygdala by a thousandfold. Soner has never been so afraid in his entire life, this experience is the last he will ever have, this dimension is truly forbidden to trespass. His soul falls back to his flesh, the subtle shackles disappears. The high frequency waves slowly subsides.

Soner comes to an immediate consciousness as he feels a falling sensation back to his body.
He contemplates while perspiring profusely, clutching both his hands on his head. There’s some vestigial of intense agony left in his anatomy. For instance, his eyes are exceptionally painful as though a fire has been searing them all along.

He starts to wonder, is this truly a simple nightmare. Or has he nearly transcended to a parallel world.

Story B:

Jake is suffering from the intense humidity in the packed canteen of the school. The hubbub is intercepting every inspiration and thoughts he have for a composition that is feasible for the writing competition. Mirage is prevalent in the far distant football field.

“Is this some season of hyperthermia, at this rate, the iceburgs are going to melt”

Jake thinks to himself nonsensically, being unable to generate any concepts to prepare for the competition.

Aside from the heat, the architecture of the school is so poor that it does not advocate good ventilation, the pillars are so congested together as though it will look aesthetic to anyone. The walls are filled with dents and cracks, with nests of ants everywhere. This is the kind of context they cage students in when teachers can rest in serenity in their air conditioned rooms. Jake starts to ponder if he is some kind of inmate in the penitentiary.

Teachers walk loftily among the crowd in the canteen as though they are wardens, trying to silence anyone who is talking politically about the school, or anyone who appears to be of high intelligence.

As usual, a chaotic drama can never fail to breed in this corrupted school.

Jake directs his attention at the spill over at the nearby table.

Teacher “Who do you think you are? An evangelist??!”

A tall and bony teacher with an albino complex reaches out her hand to slap the victim.

Young student “I am really sorry, I can’t be anymore apologetic”

Teacher, with scorn and contempt “Address me as Madam”

She pulls the boy towards her by grasping the collar of his uniform tightly, giving him immense threat.

Teacher “Listen you mongrel, I need your assistance to clean up my office table right now else I will not hesitate to inform your parents that you are skipping school.”

The other teachers who are patrolling nearby burst into shrieks of vile laughter, making a huge mockery of the boy. The bony teacher proceeds to deride the emaciated boy by pouring her bottle of mineral water on him.

Jake clenches his fist as he witness such depravity in humanity. Her very action has just broken a wire in him. He rushes forward, shoving everyone in the crowd, he has lost total control of his senses. With all the angst building up within him, he launches a hit on the teacher’s face.

Jake “Seriously, SHUT your mouth, you virginal piece of abomination!”

That bony teacher shrieked in pain as she howls for aid from the nearby patrols.

Jake, who has broken all shackles of his usually mild and perturbable temperament, proceeds to kick every single anatomy of that teacher, maliciously hoping that her bones will break and god will crucify her wounds on a bed of salt for her sins.

Cheers can be heard from the midst of this cacophony, the emaciated boy smiles and expresses silent gratitude to the hero.

Heroic acts are only temporal as a patrol of teachers manage to subdue and pin Jake down to the ground. Repressing the situation is however not their ultimate intention. One of them takes out a seemingly large whip made out of pure rubber and proceeds to lash it at Jake’s body.

Jake “AHHHHHH! AHHHH!”

Screams of agony and pain pervades the atmosphere in the canteen, catching everyone’s attention as they realise how brutal and corrupted teachers are.

No one dares to save him, nobody attempts to oppose as another group of teachers are surrounding them, anticipating any kind of irregular movement.

Bony teacher “This is what you get for opposing authority, we are always RIGHT, and you are hopelessly left. Get the pun? or do you need me to teach you literature?”

The school bell rings, signifying the start of classes. Jake heaves a sigh of relief as the torture stops. He glares at every single teacher with every vestigial of hatred in the wounds they have inflicted not only physically, but mentally.

Emaciated boy attempts to lift him up to the nearby table.

Jake “Don’t worry about me, quick go to your lesson. This time you need to defend yourself. Have some pride, never let those cowards tarnish it”

The young boy nods like an innocent child with purity that is being doused by the ominous blight of this tainted school.

Jake looks in depth as the boy runs to the other block in the vicinity. Scenes of subservience strike his head as he endures the pain in his wounds.

He gives a pugnacious punch on the wall.

Jake “Some day…..just you wait, some day I will expose this conspiracy”

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