Cat

There once was a cat
With fur so black
When darkness fell
You could not tell
Where once was a cat

Paws soft
Nose aloft
Eyes green
Coat a sheen
Whiskers shivering
Tail a-quivering
Crouching low
Moving slow
Here comes the predator cat!
A swipe, a snap, a crunch, a smack
A snack in a house
Where once was a mouse
Where now there was only a cuddly
Fearsomely wuddly
Awesomely
Possumly
Cat.



JL

Sleepless

It's 2am. I googled the first things that came to mind: you, myself, her. I'm searching for something to lose myself in - a story, a person, a life. Why isn't it working? I need fulfilment; sin eats up all meaning and leaves you hollow inside. God help me.

3. Family (Part 2)

The house was dark when Jared arrived. He fumbled with the keys, trying first one then another on the barely visible lock. When he finally unlocked the gates, its bolt clanged and its hinges creaked loudly as they opened. It was a welcome Jared had always thought echoed the feelings he had about his life, his soul? It grated on the ears and made him clench his fists, but his annoyance towards the gate was not half as great as that towards himself, because he knew he had stood by and let it rust. And so it was a good thing he lived alone, though if he hadn't maybe someone might have oiled the gate.

It's Official - My Blog is like a Diary

I checked out my visitor ratings and for the past few months, I've had a total of....no visitors! What this means is...my blog is officially like a diary! This means I can post up whatever I want, and not worry about the repercussions, because no one will visit. I don't know why I'm happy about this, but I am. Maybe it's cause I like the idea of this blog just floating around in cyberspace, doing it's own thing, this little island of thoughts existing just for me. Small concrete thoughts that could enter someone's head if they happened to drop by, but they don't, and so the thoughts just bounce around in a random Brownian fashion. Thoughts like...

I've made up my mind to start looking up nautical words like frigate and taffrail when I read seafaring adventures, because I've skipped them for far too long! I don't know if you do this too (you probably don't, since you don't exist), but I normally just skim through all the words I don't understand in books like Treasure Island and Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. Probably the only nautical words I know are starboard and port, and that's because C.S. Lewis actually explains what they mean in Voyage of the Dawn Treader. And okay, a few others, like harpoon and "Ahoy" and "shiver me timbers!" (well maybe not the last one). I've really got to start looking up those words.

Yo-ho-ho and a bottle of rum!
Jenna

Maybe Cleverbot reads this

Ever click on 'New Post' and spend minutes just staring at the blank field, wondering what you should blog about? What your title should be?Whether you should choose the title first, or just skip to the post section? I decided to just start typing instead of procrastinating like I have been so long (and what does the content matter anyway - no one reads this blog. According to the chatbox on the right, in any case. I think they're all just spammers wanting me to go to their blog and join some bogus contest! It's depressing. I have a feeling the messages are all from autobots. Anyone know how to prevent this? You, autobot reader, can you tell me?)

Back to the task at hand. I'm just going to write the first thing that comes to mind, never mind if the language is rubbish and the content crappy. If I learnt anything from Nanowrimo, it's that the way to get over writer's block is to focus on quantity, not quality. So though my days of writing have long past, I am going to shake of the dust, scrape of the rust, and increase that word count.

I love salmon sushi. It's an awesome, awesome taste. A fish dish best served cold and raw, with a little slice of lemon. The taste...the taste... one couldn't say it's sweet, nor sour or bitter or salty. Unagi it is then. But ever so subtle -everything about the salmon sashimi is subtle. It's soft, slightly chewy texture, it's mysterious flavour that you can only notice if it's served cold, it's fishiness that's so different from that of the tuna or the butter fish. Salmon, just salmon.

Groupon deals are becoming less and less attractive. There are too many offers for mani-pedis, facials, massages (Swedish, Thai, infrared (?), stone, you name it), body slimming sessions, make-up classes... I think a good 70% of Groupon deals are targeted at beauty nuts. Where are all the good food deals? Where are all the fun activities? Don't you remember the time when you sold those RM6 ice-skating tickets, and I bought 20 of them, and had to use most of them myself because not all my friends wanted to go? We had such fun then, Groupon. Come on!

That's not to say I haven't used any of those beauty deals myself. What hurts is when you spend RM38 on a mani coupon only to find a RM30 offer for mani, pedi and massage a few days later. Scarred me so bad I haven't bought a mani-pedi coupon since. Well that and I decided it just wasn't worth it.

Facebook and Twitter seem to me like the easy way out for people with blogger's block. Instead of expanding on an idea or feeling, a blogger might be tempted to just polish it off in a one-liner on his/her status message and enjoy the satisfaction of almost immediate feedback. I don't like those things. It's like free samples of orange juice at the market - customers drink the small portions up because it' free, then walk away and forget about it. At least, I do. If your audience is reading your stuff just because it's on their wall, then maybe you should find a different audience.

Like these autobots. At least they came here off their own accord. I didn't have to post anything on their walls. So I don't get any human feedback. No gifts from Cafeworld, no pokes, no likes. No matter. These lovely autobots keep up the activity on this site even when I'm gone.

So thank you autobots. Any of you know Cleverbot personally?

Off to study,

Jenna

Powerless

I've been reading AW Tozer's God's Pursuit of Man, and have been pleasantly though uncomfortably surprised. I expected a dry classic, and in fact I confess that I bought it because it was a dry classic. I thought only of increasing my doctrinal knowledge, but have now been challenged to seek a knowledge of God - a spiritual knowledge that Tozer asserts cannot be known without the Holy Spirit.

A spiritual knowledge? Tozer is right when he says that the conservative church has become fearful of an emphasis on the Holy Spirit. I certainly am, and it took a 'dry classic' to lure me into a contemplation of what it really means to be imbued with the Holy Spirit.

I have a niggling feeling that I am not. And if it is true that I am not, then it is certain that I cannot really know God,

11 For who knows a person’s thoughts except their own spirit within them? In the same way no one knows the thoughts of God except the Spirit of God. ¹² What we have received is not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, so that we may understand what God has freely given us. (1 Corinthians 2:11-13)

This could be the reason I constantly fall into 'dry spells', periods of apathy and a lack of active faith bordering on unbelief. This could be why I am unable to understand those who have an emotional relationship with God, why I am so skeptical of phrases like "God told me to...". It could also be the reason behind my continual slavery to sin.

Are Christians supposed to be powerless?

Maybe Later

I should really do it now, but I'm pretty sleepy and I'll just fall asleep anyway. And if I sleep now, then I'll be refreshed tomorrow and be able to give it my full attention. If I do it now, it's just going to be half-hearted anyway, poorly done. And I'm supposed to give it my best, right? I'm late for class again. No time now. Maybe later, after lab? I'm sure I'm not expected to forgo my lunch break for this. I should find a quiet spot to do it, and there's none available now. It'll interrupt my study slot, and flow's important. I should spend these two hours studying straight, then when I get home after exercising I'll have done all I need to do and can get down to it. Great, I didn't get to finish studying, blogging kinda distracted me. Never mind, I'll do those chapters tomorrow. Swimming's so tiring, but so refreshing. Dinner, calories? Metabolism rate's higher. Home at last. I should really do it now, but I'm pretty sleepy and I'll just fall asleep anyway. You understand, right? I'll talk to you tomorrow, I promise.

Vicious Cycle

I really don't get why Blinky hates me so much. Pinky and Clyde, they're a few pixels short of a byte, if you know what I mean, but Blinky? That creep has determination. He has wiles. And he's using them both on me. And why? Just because I go after those little round dots? He don't need them. He's got a home. When a smiley's got no home he ain't got nothing else to do, ya know? A bloke's gotta eat.

It's the way of the world, isn't it? That those evil little pixlets are blessed with regeneration, while an emoticon like me is vulnerable to their every touch, and whose only source of nourishment exists only in their lair. Inkey would understand if she wasn't on their side.

It's a vicious cycle. A vicious cycle.

Something tells me that if I keep on in this cycle I'll eventually reach nirvana. 256 levels of nirvana, they say. Or it's game over for me.

The Amicable Knots

The following was written on Oct 29, 2008. A rescued rhyme from my discarded blog.

The Amicable Knots

A knot said to a knot one day,
You're looking awfully loose,
Was that you I saw
With the knot next door
While I talked with the knot on the noose?

The knot replied
Yes.

A pause or two paused
The wind blew by
Blew the knot on the noose
And the knot on the loose
Swung up and thought it could fly.

The knot next door came
Next door for a game
Came next door, came next door
Just to spend

An amicable time
With the knot that could rhyme
And the knot on the noose and
The knot that was loose
And the wind that blew through the chimes.

The four knots ate tea and cereal
And discussed fleas and material
One was itchy and rope
One was made out of soap
One was old and brittle and dry

One was made out of thread
It need hardly be said that
This wasn't the one that goes over the head.

The amicable knots
Talked about poetry and sports
And cows and pots
And whirls and dots
And counted their knots
Till the knot next door
Fell asleep on the floor
While the others came undone
As down went the sun

How many knots left? Said I
It said "One".

J.L.

The Dusty Bear

The following was written on Oct 25, 2006. A rescued rhyme from my discarded blog.

The Dusty Bear

O dusty bear, come down from there,
and have a drink or two.
Your button eye hangs by a thread,
You're languishing above my bed.
Won't you, bear, bear your sorrows where
The sun can shine on you?

The dusty bear
Returned my stare
It's unhappy eye
Looked down as I
Inquired.
It shook its head
Above my bed
It was, it said
quite frankly, oh, dead
Tired.

It pointed to my sewing kit
I asked what I could do for it
It pointed to the dangling thread
I eyed its eye as it replied
Please sew it.
How can a bear bear
Its sleepiness where
Only one eye shuts, not the other?
How can a bear
'Come down from there'
When one button can't see another?

I took a needle, I cut some thread
I attached the button to its head
It looked quite well
It felt well too!
And jumped down
Like a kangaroo.

-j.l-

Jenna

6. Sausage Bits

The following was written on May 15, 2008. A rescued story from my discarded blog.

"I-aiiii'm not finished," continued the sheep. "Thirdly, you should know better, Maggy Donut, than to speak in rhyme to sheep. We don't like it."

"Wooly-de-Dooly!" cried Maggy Donut. "It's you! I'd recognise your indignation anywhere, even if your wool is black!"

"Harumph," harumphed Wooly-de-Dooly. Four black paws bounded up to Wooly-de-Dooly and an invisible tongue licked its ears affectionately.

"Alllll right," baa-ed the sheep. "Whaddaya want? And be quick about it. I've got a hoovedecure soon."

6. Sausage Bits

"This is Quantis," said Maggy Donut. "Quantis, meet Wooly-de-Dooly,"

"Ni-i-ce to meeeet you," baa-ed Wooly-de-Dooly. "Love your wool colour. I had that shade of brown last summer,"

"Thanks," said Quantis. "It's natural."

There was a pause. Maggy Donut cleared her throat. Twiggedo tried to exchange a glance with Quantis and wasn't surprised when she didn't see it.

"Wooly-de-Dooly, do you have any idea where we can find The Big Fat Duchess of Yolk?"

"Whaddaya want to see her for?" asked Wooly-de-Dooly. "She's cracked. Eggshells in all the wrong places. Why, last week my wool-dresser was telling me that she spent the whole morning looking for sausages. Sausages, I tell you! She set her entire herd of pigs through the strainer and you should have seen the result! Big fat sausages running around the fields! Small sausages getting stuck between your hooves! And the oil-stains on the pavement..."

"Do tell us where she is," begged Quantis. " My father's missing and we've got to find him! Humpty Dumpty said she knows something about it,"

"Well, he never actually said that," interjected Maggy Donut. "But yes, Wooly-de-Dooly, do tell us where to find her."

"Aaa-lright," said Wooly-de-Dooly. "Just follow the sausage bits. She can't be very far away."

"Thanks, Wooly-de-Dooly," said Maggy Donut. "Enjoy your hoovedecure." She scratched Wooly-de-Dooly behind the ears affectionately, and the big black sheep started trotting off into the vibrant horizon.

And so our adventuresome trio started out on a search through La-La Land, following a trail of scattered sausage bits. Some sausage bits were easy to find, as they were lying about conspicuously on the path. Other bits were a bit tricky as they were still wriggling and therefore changed position constantly. Quantis had to stop Twiggedo from chasing them down sausage-burrows and up green crayoned-trees.

Along the way, they met all sorts of crazy characters. They met the Spiralling Caterpillar of Greenery, who tried to hypnotise them by spiralling around in front of their eyes. Twiggedo took care of that threat by having no visible eyes for the Caterpillar to focus on. With one swipe of a black paw, the Spiralling Caterpillar was sent spiralling into the greenery.

Once they were startled to find a penguin popping up from the earth right in front of them.

"How are you doing, my monochromatic friend?" asked the penguin in smooth Mafia patter. "Where is this?"

"La-la Land," supplied Quantis helpfully, seeing the Twiggedo was either unable or unwilling to answer. (It occured to her at this point that while she had heard Twiggedo warble, she had not heard Twiggedo enunciate.)

The penguin smacked an angry wing on the earth. "Too far east! Come on fellas, let's get out of here!" There was a sound of a body of penguins diving deeper under the earth. Turning to the three of them, the penguin waved his wings in a suave and dangerous manner. "You didn't see anything..."

With that, the penguin disappered.

Shrugging, the three of them continued on the sausage trail. All this time the sheer colour of the landscape escaped their notice. There were many distracting and curious figures walking the land. Huge purple and yellow butterflies hovered about two-dimensional flowers, crudely scribbled out against a background of childish alphabets. Every once in a while a house would fall out of the sky, squashing witches with red-and-white striped stockings.

More than once, Maggy Donut,Quantis and Twiggedo would be stopped by a clownish policeman for breaking one of the rules in La-la Land. (Don't walk on the water, don't cross when the zebras are walking, don't be oblivious to the wackiness of the landscape.) Fortunately, the policemen were easily appeased with sausage bits.

They found the Big Fat Duchess of Yolk busy ordering her minions (little chessmen) to polish her merry-go-round. A gigantic merry-go-round, with insane-looking horses bobbing on gleaming golden poles and carnival music out of It, was spinning round and round in time to the music. Long, flowing white streamers with what looked like blood stains flowed against the wind, attached to tall iron poles. Nearby stood a stall and a sign which read,

"THE BIG FAT DUCHESS OF YOLK PROUDLY PRESENTS

AN AMAZING DISPLAY OF CARNIVALRY!

AN EVENT NOT TO BE MISSED!

DO NOT PRESUME TO MISS IT!

Cautiously, Maggy Donut, Quantis and Twiggedo approached the Big Fat Duchess of Yolk.++

5. La-La Land

The following was written on Mar 05, 2008. A rescued story from my discarded blog.

"Now about this vanishing business," continued the Egg, almost seriously but not quite managing it, "You need to go to La-La Land. When you are there, the Dumpty says you should look for the Big Fat Duchess of Yolk and do whatever she says.He says he would bring you to her himself except her yolk-coloured dress quite upsets him. Upsets me too, for that matter. Though La-La knows if I even have yolk." And the Egg grinned.

"Thank Humpty Dumpty for me," smiled Maggy Donut. "I'll stop by the Wall if I have time,"

"Yes, thank you!" said Quantis.

The Happy Egg gave a big bouncy smile and an English roll to each of them before rolling off into a smiling mist.

Quantis and Maggy Donut chewed on their English rolls. They were delicious and egg-free.

"The thing to do," began Maggy Donut, chewing thoughtfully, "the thing to do is to find this Big Fat Duchess of Yolk and see what she has to say. But we must be careful. You never know who is sane in La-La Land, or who even belongs to the Land. And they're forever making up new rules. Some quite silly too."

"What's La-La Land?" asked Quantis. "And can Twiggedo get us there?"

"It's the Land of Nursery Rhymes," said Maggy Donut. "The great historian Enid Blyton once chronicled it in the Adventures of the Rocking Horse, if I'm not mistaken. And inter-world travel is my specialty, not Twigeddo's. His specialty is intra-world travelling.Twiggedo!"

Twiggedo stopped chasing butterflies and padded obediently to his mistress. She produced a soft, bright red collar and slipped it gently over Twiggedo's invisible neck. She clipped an invisible leash to from the collar to her cloak.

"To stop anyone from kidnapping him," she explained. "Now hold unto my hand. We're about to go to La-La Land!"

Holding Quantis with one hand and waving a book of nursery rhymes in the other, our witch chanted in soprano,

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall,

All the King's horses and all the King's men

Couldn't put Humpty Dumpty together again.

Twiggedo chimed in with a drawling tenor.

In a puff of whirling colours and eccentric oddities, they arrived in La-La Land.

La-La Land.

The first thing you noticed about it was the brilliant colours. All the surrounding trees and hills and grass and cottages looked like they had just stepped out of a brightly illustrated children's storybook. As your eyes adjusted to the kaleidoscope of colours, the next thing you noticed was that every object and every character was outlined with by brushes of black ink.

Quantis, who was quite an observant girl, observed even more. She observed that some of the creatures looked like they were coloured with colour pencils, others with crayons, and still others with paint. Some had no colour at all. These looked like they had stepped out of ancient manuscripts. The landscape itself varied from acre to acre.

Maggy was asking for directions from an cute sheep of the darkest black.

Baa Baa Black Sheep,

Have you any clue?

Yes or no sheep, the way to the

Big Fat Duchess of Yolk? ,

Who's -uh- down with the flu?S

"Sto-o-p!" baa-ed the sheep indignantly. "First of all, that was TERRIBLE! Clue and Yolk and Flu?! They don't rhyme! And there's no rhythmn, no shape, no poetry! And SECOND of all , baa baa, I'm not the black sheep who got ripped off with that wool stuff." The sheep gave a shake of his voluminous black wool.

"So-" began Maggy Donut.

"I-aiiii'm not finished," continued the sheep. "Thirdly, you should know better, Maggy Donut, than to speak in rhyme to sheep. We don't like it."

"Wooly-de-Dooly!" cried Maggy Donut. "It's you! I'd recognise your indignation anywhere, even if your wool is black!"

"Harumph," harumphed Wooly-de-Dooly. Four black paws bounded up to Wooly-de-Dooly and an invisible tongue licked its ears affectionately.

"Alllll right," baa-ed the sheep. "Whaddaya want? And be quick about it. I've got a hoovedecure soon."

++to be continued.

4. The Happy Egg

The following was written on Mar 01, 2008. A rescued story from my discarded blog.

"What do you mean, disappeared?" asked Maggy, brandishing her quill with with she had been jotting notes. "Did he become suddenly invisible? Was he dragged out in a blurry motion? Was there any puffy magical smoke?"

"Um..." Quantis tried hard to remember. " I think there was a sort of mist, and I think I heard a faint, very faint tinkling sound...and when I blinked, he was g-gone."

"Hmm." said Maggy. She thoughtfully tapped her armrest with her wand. The armchair changed colours with every tap. Blue. Brown. Pink. Maroon. Purple. Orange. Black.

"It seems to me, dear," said Maggy in a firm voice. "The first thing we need to do is go to your home. We must search for clues!"

---

4. The Happy Egg

Maggy Donut got up from her armchair, gesturing to Quantis to do the same. She gracefully waved her quill. Nothing happened.

"Whoops!" chuckled Maggy. She gracefully waved her wand. The armchairs, table and teaset disappeared with a chuckling 'pop'.

"Now, let me see," said Maggy. "What to bring, what to bring...Twiggedo! Be a dear and get all the miscellaneous items ready while I dig up my old books. Quantis, go to the mirror and ask it for some necessary things. Just thank it when you're done."

Quantis was beginning to learn. She walked over to the full-length mahogany-framed mirror and said, "Can you give me some necessary things?"

As she stared at her reflection, the mirror shimmered and hummed quietly. After a few seconds of solemn thinking, the mirror replaced her dark blue cardigan with a dark purple cardigan, complete with a hood and pair of mittens slung around her neck. Her black and red checkered skirt became a pair of long black pairs, comfortable yet stylish. And her worn out pair of sneakers were replaced with furry pink boots. As a final touch, the mirror swept up Quantis' messy dark brown curls into a neat ponytail, tied with a ribbon.

Quantis waited a few more seconds. When nothing happened, she thanked the mirror. The mirror shimmered blue in response then became for all intent and purposes an ordinary mirror.

Meanwhile, Twiggedo was running around invisibly, carrying one visible item after another from the various nooks and crannys of the shop to a pile in the middle of the room. Maggy Donut was busy rummaging in her library.

All three were soon ready. Maggy Donut tapped her spectacles in another series of magical staccatos, and the entire pile of curious items vanished. "Only they haven't really," assured Maggy Donut. "They've just been stored away in a convenient magical manner."

Maggy Donut, Quantis and Twiggedo (though you could never really be sure where Twiggedo was) returned to the ground floor of the oak tree. Quantis followed Maggy Donut outside. A sense of adventure was rising.

"We'll travel by cat," explained Maggy. "Twiggedo is a most capable magical feline. And brooms are so boring."

The long black tail that had been waving beside them suddenly grew ten times larger. The four dainty black paws that had been patting the ground impatiently suddenly became four large paws impatient for action. A breeze seemed to blow the black fur into a more aerodynamic arrangement.

Maggy clutched a handful of invisible fur and pulled herself astride Twiggedo. Quantis followed suit.

"Off we go!" cried Maggy excitedly. "Don't worry, Twiggedo is not only amazingly safe, he's amazingly All-seeing! He knows where you stay!"

One gigantic black paw pawed the ground. The invisible back bent low to the ground. Cat ears lay flat to minimise wind-resistance. With a melodic "Mrrreeeeeeeow!" Maggy Donut, Quantis Queue, and Twiggedo were off to search for clues.

They whipped through the forest as fast as the wind. They leaped over stones and tree-roots and rabbits as lightly as a hopping leaf. They thundered and tiptoed and whirlwind'd themselves right up to the Queue's doorstep.

Once there, Twiggedo shrunk to his common size. Maggy and Quantis entered the Queue's living room while Twiggedo guarded the door.

The Queue's living room was a mess. Two cups of cold blurgandy tea sat on the coffee-table. Quantis immediately began sniffing around for clues, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Every once in a while she muttered a 'Hmm..." and a "Hhhh..." which filled Quantis with hope.

After an hour of this, Quantis could contain herself no longer. "What have you found, Maggy Donut?"

"Well," said Maggy sheepishly," Nothing. This whole crime scene is so suspiciously unlike a crime scene. No mist residue, no needles, no broom fibres...nothing magical at all!"

Before Quantis could express her disappointment, there came a hiss from outside. She and our befuddled heroine hurried outside.

Twiggedo was hissing at a curious rather extraordinary visitor. It was...what looked to be...a rather

Happy Egg

The happy egg bounced at the sight of Quantis. Surprisingly, it did not crack open and spill its contents for Twiggedo to lick up.

"Hie!" bounced the egg happily. "I'm the Happy Egg! Loved by all, eaten by none! Who came first, the chicken or the egg? Neither! No Happy Chicken exists, poor thing. Nothing to be happy about."

"..." said Maggy Donut.

"..." said Quantis.

"Mreeeeoowww!" said Twiggedo.

"I," bounced the egg. "Am," bounced the egg, "Here," bounced the egg, "To HELP you!" BOUNCED the egg. It grinned widely from eye to eye.

"Nice to meet you, " managed Maggy Donut, trying not to grin.

"Help us how?" asked Quantis, trying hard to supress a smile herself.

Fed up, Twiggedo said nothing.

"I can tell you where to go next," announced the Happy Egg happily. "Humpty Dumpty sent me to help you like you helped him,"

"Ah yes," said Maggy Donut. "How is the dear?"

"Never seen him happier. Falls off every other day and still no horse or king's man can put him together again! I can almost get him to smile!" said the Happy Egg. "Now this girl, she has a very nice smile. Used to see her and Mr Queue smile all the time!" The Happy Egg bounced approvingly.

Quantis, assured that the Happy Egg wasn't sinisterly happy, gave the Egg a smile. Twiggedo was off chasing butterflies.

"Now about this vanishing business," continued the Egg, almost seriously but not quite managing it, "You need to go to..."

++to be continued

3. Maggy with a Mission

The following was written on Feb 01, 2008. A rescued story from my discarded blog.

"First of all, my name is Quantis." said the girl. "I was sitting in the living room back home with my father when there came a knock on the door..."

The fire in the fireplace flickered and sent sparks and shadows unto the hearth. Its crackling was the only sound to be heard in the shop besides the sound of Quantis' voice, relating the strangely ordinary events leading up to her arrival outside of Maggy's Miscellaneous Magic. Maggy Donut and Twiggedo didn't move an eyebrow, visible or otherwise, as they drank in the details of her seemingly ordinary tale.

Quantis Queue lived with her father in an busy, bustling village many miles from Wildwood. Her father was the village tailor. Father and daughter lived alone, as Quantis' mother died in childbirth. From what Quantis said, Maggy Donut could tell that she and her father were very chummy.

"My father was a very good tailor," said Quantis with pride. "All the farmers came to him with their holey sacks, torn cow-collars and even the occasional straw hat. Daddy could fix them up in no time. Sometimes even the village headman would come and have his tablecloths ironed and monogrammed."

Twiggedo swished his tail.

Each morning, Mr Queue and Quantis would breakfast on goat's milk and freshly baked patatta. As soon as their rooster quacked, Quantis would wash their breakfast things while Mr Queue harnessed their pony to the cart. Then, together, father and daughter set off to the schoolhouse, where Mr Queue taught a sack-patching class and Quantis learned her lessons.

In the afternoons, at the sound of the school bell, the Queues let out a silent whoop -almost silmultaneously, though they never knew it- and rode in the pony cart all the way home. Quantis would spend the afternoons doing her homework, cleaning the little hut they lived in, and sometimes helping her dad iron the sacks he mended. Her free time was spent reading in the little hammock her late mother had made in the early years of her marriage.It always seemed to Quantis that she was nearer to her mother there than at any other place...though she had never met her.

My Queue and Quantis would then have a quiet dinner in the evening, telling each other about their days. It was then that the first extraordinary event in this otherwise ordinary tale happened.

Mr Queue was just telling Quantis over a cup of blurgandy tea - "though nothing half as good as your tea, Maggy Donut," - about an extra big hole in Farmer Cocoa's cocoa bean sack when there came a knock on the door.

"I felt the hairs on my neck rise, I can tell you that," said Quantis earnesly, leaning forward in her red armchair, her big grey eyes wide at the memory.

"Just at the sound of the knock?" asked Maggy, raising her inqusitive eyebrows. Unseen to both of them, Twiggedo twitched his ears and snapped at a fly.

"It was such a scary knock," shivered Quantis. "A sort of ominous tap, if you know what I mean,"

"I have heard such some knocks myself," agreed Maggy, old memories resurfacing for the briefest of moments.

"And so there was this ominous tap, then a pause." continued Quantis. "Daddy put down his cup, and got up to answer it. I just sat there to take another sip. As soon as Daddy opened the door, something rushed in with loud thumps and knocked over all the furniture. I had such a shock! I called for Daddy, and he came in looking flustered and mildly annoyed. When he saw the furniture, he reached for his glasses on the table, but..."

Four black paws and a black tail sailed through the air and landed on her lap. A reassuring purr encouraged Quantis to finish her tale.

"...but then Daddy just disappeared," finished Quantis miserably.

"What do you mean, disappeared?" asked Maggy, brandishing her quill with with she had been jotting notes. "Did he become suddenly invisible? Was he dragged out in a blurry motion? Was there any puffy magical smoke?"

"Um..." Quantis tried hard to remember. " I think there was a sort of mist, and I think I heard a faint, very faint tinkling sound...and when I blinked, he was g-gone."

"Hmm." said Maggy. She thoughtfully tapped her armrest with her wand. The armchair changed colours with every tap. Blue. Brown. Pink. Maroon. Purple. Orange. Black.

"It seems to me, dear," said Maggy in a firm voice. "The first thing we need to do is go to your home. We must search for clues!"

++ to be continued

2. The Human Child

The following was written on Feb 01, 2008. A rescued story from my discarded blog.

Maggy Donut removed her pink-rimmed spectacles and rubbed her eyes. Then she peeped through the peephole again.

"My word..." she breathed. Right outside her oak tree stood a young girl clad in a red and black checkered skirt and a dark blue cardigan. Her dark brown curls were in a mess, and there was a scrape on one knee. As Maggy watched, the girl roughly wiped the tears from her eyes with her sleeve and shouted ," OPEN SESAME!!!"

Maggy studied her for a moment, then made up her mind. She pulled her wand from the wand stand and waved it around in a series of seemingly complicated wiggles. Outside, a long grey streamer of smoke appeared before the girl and formed itself into words: "What's the magic word?"

The young girl jumped as the smoke appeared before her eyes. Hesitantly, she said "Um...please?"

Maggy smiled approvingly. At least this human child knew her manners. She tapped her spectacles in a rapid staccato. A doorknob appeared on the bark of the oak tree. The girl strode determinedly in, though if one looked closely enough one could see that her fingers were trembling.

"How can I help you?" asked Maggy.

The girl looked at Maggy. "Is this...are you Maggy Doughnut?"

"Donut, dear, Donut." beamed Maggy. "Mistress of all miscellaneous magic. I suppose you're here on business?"

"I don't know about that," she faltered. "Someone told me I should come look for you when they, um, when they..." To Maggy's dismay, the girl's dark grey eyes filled with tears.

Tears made Maggy extremely uncomfortable. Witches don't cry. Maggy never did. She vented her emotions by conjuring the weirdest and most extraordinary items she could think off. It took her mind off her emotions.

"Ummm....want a chocolate?" she asked. A big fat tear rolled down the girl's cheek.

Maggy shuffled her feet. At that moment there came a rustling sound from behind the wand stand. A long black something waved in the air, and four tiny black shadows moved across the floor towards the girl.

"Oh!" said the girl. She bent down and looked around. "I felt something rub against my legs."

"That must be Twiggedo, my all-seeing cat," explained Maggy. "He's partially visible."

At the sound of his name, Twiggedo waved his black tail in the air and let out a purr. With a leap, four little black paws jumped onto the girl's shoulders. She managed a small giggle.

Before any waterworks could resume, Maggy invited her to go down to the shop.

"That's where I conduct all my business," she explained. "Twiggedo, do the honours."

Twiggedo obligingly broke into the song. 'Are yew going to Scarborough Fair? Paarsley sage, rosemaaary and thymee.Remember me to one who lives there...' ending the verse with a beautiful warble and a soft mew.

"Beautifully done, Twiggledo!" cried Maggy.

A spiral pathway appeared under their feet, along with a pile of cushions. Both ladies slipped onto the cushions and slid all the way

Down...
Down....
Down....

And landed in Maggy's Miscellaneous Magic.

In a careless, relaxed and calming manner, Maggy waved over two big plushy armchairs and a tea table. The mysterious young girl landed in the red armchair, Maggy landed in the brown one, and four black paws landed by the teapot. A black tail waved about indignantly in the air.

"Here, have some tea," said Maggy kindly. "It'll soothe your nerves. It's a famous SECRET blurgandy tea that's been taught to generations of Donuts past. And while you're at it have some of my tasty chocolate and camel cookies."

The young girl smiled and accepted the hovering cup of tea. At the first sip her face brightened.

"Now, tell me your business," said Maggy, leaning back into the armchair contentedly. Her eyebrows furrowed in interest. Twiggledo leaped on the the armrest beside her, his invisible ears pricked up.

"First of all, my name is Quantis." said the girl. "I was sitting in the living room back home with my father when..."

++ to be continued...

1. Adventures of Maggy Donut

The following was written on Jan 30, 2008. A rescued story from my discarded blog.

Once upon a time, there lived an ancient, wrinkled and bespectacled witch named Maggy Donut. She possesed the most wonderful and weirdest powers which caused her to be both feared and ridiculed by the other witches in her clan.

She could turn leaves into golden needles and golden needles into chocolates at a blink of an eye. Purple camels were afraid of Maggy because Maggy could turn them into chicken pie at a snap of a finger. Other abilities included making nursery rhymes come true, turning hills into valleys and valleys into ponds and ponds into hills, and cooking.

Ah, her cooking! The other witches loved her cooking. They hadn't much use for the other abilities, but her cooking was fantastic. Maggy had often been advised to close down "Maggy's Miscellaneous Magic" and open a witchs' bistro instead. But one of Maggy's traits was stubbornness, and her queer tree-shop of myriad magic remained open.

Maggy lived in an oak tree. Its diameter was 500m long and it was so tall that if you climbed to the very top of the tree you would be drenched in clouds. All along the branches hung signs that read "Beware of Owls", "Watch Your Broom Bristles - Clouds Ahead!" and various other warnings. Maggy cared about her customers.

"Maggy's Miscellaneous Magic" was a curious shop located at the very roots of the oak tree. To enter it one had to possess either magical abilities or a magical friend. The entrance into the oak tree itself required the speaking of "Open Sesame" with the usual intonations. And once inside the trapdoor which led to the shop was mysteriously hidden.

Maggy Donut had a happy life. She was a rather nice witch, as far as witches go. She didn't like conformity and was a perfectionist and kept an invisible cat (all but the paws and the tail) but for all those flaws she was quite lovable. She also had inquisitive eyebrows and those eyebrows were what kept her in the business of the unusual.

One day, our heroine witch was sitting in the coolness of her curious shop, shining a customer's golden needle by the light of a candled toad when she heard a faint rustle above ground. Curious, she wriggled her left ear to listen better.

Someone was shouting "Open Sesame!" above her shop, but getting it all wrong.

"Open Sesame!" Nothing happened.

"Opan Sesame!" Still nothing.

The voice tried a few more times, then fell silent. Maggy frowned and shook her head. "Creatures nowadays," she mumbled. "What has become of their diction? Must be too much wrap," Wrap, or warlock-rap was one of Maggy's especial dislikes. She was traditional in that aspect.

Presently, her left ear picked up a sob. At the same time, her eyebrows gave a wriggle. "No," Maggy said sternly to herself. "You know the rules." As if to assure herself, she gave the needle an extra hard rub, stuck it carefully into its pin cushion, then directed her eyebrows to the Rulebook.

"Customers must say Open Sesame right", she recited. Her eyebrows stubbornly wriggled again. Right on cue, another sob came to her left ear.

Maggy's eyes softened. "Oh alright," she said. "Just this once."

Flinging on her favourite black cardigan, she tapped her spectacles twice, muttered "Ground floor", disappeared and reappeared in her living room. She peeped through the peephole. "Blueberries and thorns!" she gasped, her eyebrows now wriggling up a frenzy.

"I wonder what's afoot..."

++to be continued...

2. Family (Part 1)

The following was written on May 12, 2009. A rescued story from my discarded blog.

The service ended. Jared slid quietly out of his seat and made his way down the aisle, avoiding the ushers who looked ready to extend friendliness to him. He stepped out of the church and into the fresh air. The sky was overcast, with grey clouds threatening to dissolve into torrents of rain at any moment. The breeze carried with it the scent of wet leaves and puddles.

Jared felt melancholy. At least, he felt the urge to be. Shaking off the thoughts of church that bickered with each other in the space of his head, he took off in a slow jog in the direction of the park. The pavement crunched beneath his feet.

Strange how the sound of his shoes hitting the gravel only served to accentuate the very silence of the afternoon. Far-off sounds of car engines starting and people chatting in the distance made Jared feel like he was in a cone of silence. It made him feel lonely.

There was only one family at the park that day. He had seen them there before. There was the small girl who reminded him of Megan. Today she was busy playing with a young Golden Retriever. Her parents sat on a bench a space away, offering encouragement: “Throw the stick a bit further! Oh wow, well done!” The small girl -she must have only been about six- laughed and clapped her hands, and kissed and hugged the small dog.

That that sort of family still existed…it was a surprise. Just wait till she’s 15, thought Jared. Then he felt ashamed for his cynicism, as if he had just wished a broken family unto the little girl. Then he thought, well, that’s life. The people that should have loved you best loved you the worst, they just forgot they had to or went about it the wrong way or they just gave up on you and left.

A drop of water fell onto the back of his hand. Soon the rain was falling heavily. The family ran to a black CV nearby. Jared got up and slowly walked home.

1. Church

The following was written on May 11, 2009. A rescued story from my discarded blog.

The worship leader had just taken the stage. Acoustic guitar in hand, he strummed a few chords while reading from Psalm 100. Jared quietly slid into one of the back rows, ignoring the gestures of the usher. He stared at the words on the projector. A familiar song, this one. It was a song he used to sing back when he was in the youth. A different church, a different time.

Mouthing the words automatically, Jared let his mind wander, the smell of the air-conditioning that all churches seem to have bringing old memories to the surface. The lady next to him sang shrilly, hands raised in worship. In front of him two teenagers texted discreetly. An old man snored in the corner.

Jared brought his attention back to the screen. I’m coming back to the heart of worship, and it’s all about You, it’s all about You, Jesus. He rolled the words around in his mouth, trying to imagine what it would be like to mean it. The lost exuberance of his former youth scrabbled right below the surface of his emotions, just beyond his reach. He gave up.

The offering bag was being passed around. He scrunched up a few notes in his hand, and dropped them in. Announcements. The number of camps and workshops and seminars exhausted him. Where did these people get the strength? What was the point, anyway? Did any of it really even matter?

Maybe, Jared reflected, it did. At least they had things to do, a goal to reach. Something to feel good about. Jared was once like them. He even organised an icebreaker once, for a youth service. It was back when he was in love with Christianity. A Planet Shaker.

A young preacher got up on the podium. With his laptop in front of him, the preacher expertly told a funny story, and gave an outline of his sermon. It was about ‘Eagle’s Wings’. Wasn’t that a song?

God led the Israelites out of Egypt, and brought them to Himself on eagle’s wings. It’s like you and I. You know, once we were like the chicks in the nest, comfortable staying in our own Egypts, our own comfort zones of television shows, and good cars, and small families. We thought it was all there is to life, and we liked it. But God, you know, well, He has something better for us (Amen) and He pushes us out of our comfort zones, our nests, just like the mother eagle. And when we fall, He catches us and carries us on eagle’s wings.That’s God for you, He…

The preacher continued. Jared thought about the eagle. He didn’t think he was in a comfort zone. He wasn’t unhappy either. He was just…in limbo. Did God exist? He wasn’t sure. Sometimes, on rainy days, Jared felt that God must be out there somewhere. But most days he didn’t think about it at all. Megan believed all the time, and she always made Jared say grace. He did it to make her happy. Having something to believe in, even if it might not be true, was better than believing in nothing at all.