Judgement day and afterwards

You search the author's books and you notice lots of post-doomsday fiction he has. Keeping a mental note on it, you rifle through the hard cover books and you find nothing. You realise that twenty-six books with different starting letters were present. Hesitantly, you arrange the books by titles in alphabetical order. Volia. There was a clicking sound behind the bookshelf and you push it to find that it was like a revolving door and it revealed a musty room. You find in it, many papers containing complex mathematical equations and a map of the Earth with many squiggly arrows. What was that man up to? You don't know, but you find a black chip nestled on a velvet cushion and you picked it up and plugged it into the holographic journal belonging to the misssing author you were tasked to find

May 14

Well, people, it was to quote Sharon Quek, my classmate also in the play, JUDGEMENT DAY
It was SYF drama. I got a small role as Edgar in the revamp of King Lear. The ACJC hall was scarily empty, save for a few judges, scattered about like sand. I wore this

Self capture sucked, and i wanted to see how makeup worked on me. Not very well apparently. My briliance apparently rendered makeup as superfluous.
[jeers, retching heard]

This is me in full costume, taken by Muneeb. And below is Muneeb, who plays Kent

Handsome eh? The makeup artist came to age him and Sangeetha as well as Zaid.

Here be Sangeetha, she acts as Queen Lear and this was the costume when Lear went mad. Beside her is Joan, or Cordelia. I'm sorry if its too dark. Sangeetha would have said humourously that what is this? racist har?
[lol]

You know, the past has a certain freakish way of coming back, one of the lighting crew also a fellow emcee in the upcoming sports meet was actually someone from the past. A painful past. Taekwondo. Who knew? that someone I would meet would come from the same taekwondo in same CC too? Well apparently why i never told anyone the truth is because its so arsed I tend to go on destructive rages.

Well, the story spans over a good 6 years. It was when I was a boy. [obviously] There was this dude who taught us. He is the chief instructor. I heard lots of rumors about his errr.... unpopularity. Anyway it ain't a dissing session. Its an experience-sharing session. Anyway, I was thrown out of the Taekwondo itself. No point in telling you people details, there are some right with people some wrong with people. SO tis pointless.

Anyway, I hated that dude. He pissed me for a year. Everyday i see that face in my mind, i smash my fist into something. Only nowadays, when I heard that he left, I rejoiced and he became a mere shadow that people hated, the females didn't really want to go there from what i heard. Bu anyway people, hate is a torture unto itself. It eats you away, burns you from the inside, makes you want to get revenge. One time ain't enough, many times over and over again would alleviate the pain. I gradually forget about him. He's just a mildly arsed guy to me now. A monster with no teeth. Six years of pain, forgotten in a year.

Sure, stabs of pain still plague me now and again but still, people asked if i would go back now he was out. I probably won't, too many bad memories, too many false accusations, too much anger.

Ain't good , hate that is. Passing that day of judgement of being kicked out, anger carried me through pain, now it burnt out, peace is with me. What would you do? Walk the dangerous line between light and dark, the path of twilight?

No, I think I see a dawn.