The colour of the sky was just fine to me. Bright weather, birds were happily flying with no eagle to eat them just like in Stuart Little 2. I tucked my earphone to my ears beneath my hijab, and laid my butt softly on this pavement bench. It was my second day in Royal Egham, or I did not know how it was spelled since it happened so long ago and I forced my brain to diminish this memory. The sparkling water in front of me was the mark to everything that would be happening later. It would embark my hard journey I caused very deliberately and I was ready for this.
"Why do you leave this opened?" he asked, in a very tough Malaysian English accent.
"Saya tak suka panas, nak dia sejuk je," I hated hot drinks, hot foods, and whenever they sizzled on my tongue, it stayed anguished for more than two weeks.
He ignored the coffee matter, since it was the only thing he could spoke of when he actually meant to ask to sit next to me on this bench. "Wonder where you're from?" and he sat next to me, his hands full of travelling stuffs.
"State?"
"Yes, I am from Kuantan," he said, still strong in his very good English speaking technique.
"Well, somewhere," I broke my eyes free from him and turned my view onto the riverfront. The guy currently sitting next to me was the one I crashed in my imagination. He is nonetheless famous, not really type of guy my friend knew.
"Okay," he smirked. He took the camera off his neck by the strap and start tapping on it busily. I was there, hoping to get more questions from him. How could I meet him here? We were both Malaysians and why not Malaysia? I had been dreaming to see him, I gave hints but unnoticed, I put my dignity on stake to make him notice me but nothing! But, why now? why here? I hated him. I did not want to make acquaintance to the guy I wanted to kill.
"Hey, sir," I broke the silence.
"Yeah?" he turned off his camera, and leaned off the backrest of the bench to see me in the eyes.
"I adored you," I said, shamelessly.
"Well, that's quite a surprise," and it was not seemed as surprise to him. Maybe he was already being confronted in this same way.
"I don't think so," I let a heavy sigh down the moment, to show how aggrieved I was at the moment.
"But, why?"
"Because you are famous. Among youngsters. Mostly girls," I looked at his eyes. I stared into it and wishing that a knife could come into my hands now and had it penetrated these dark black iris in front of me.
"No, I am not. I'm just sharing things with the societies. You see, lots of people-"
"You know sapiosexual?" I broke in before he continued. I knew what he wanted to say. The aim he'd been fighting for on those medias. That was not a lie unlike a celebrity or a politician. I trusted him and that's the reason I wanted to send him away through martyr.
"It does sound familiar, maybe on Twitter,"
"It means attracted to intelligence of someone. I liked you because you are intelligent. I-"
"Wait a sec! We just met here, and you said these stuffs to me. Isn't it going to be very awkward? I am awkward now," He almost stood up but still his buttock pocket of his denim attached to the edge of the bench.
"I know..." I was trembling. Nobody done this. We met eye to eye for only 5 minutes. This whole humiliation hit me for seconds and made an unvanished scar for eternity. "Here it is," I fumbled in my big sling bag to get 'One Night in Lab' by a newbie author named Jean Yale.
He squinted at the white book displaying a cover of hands tangled. "A fiction?" he took it from my hand, leaving my heart thudding like it was going to explode.
"I know you are a good reader. Everybody knew. I want you to read," I took off from the bench and shoved my hands into the pocket of my jacket. "And put yourself in one of those characters you think fits you well," I stared at his hair, that was only visible to me when his eyesight were still glued on the cover. I waited for his response but he stayed stiffly on the bench without even looking up to see me or even ask why was I standing up.
"What is this..." he finally spoke up but I already left a yard away. I heard him and I heard no footsteps approaching me. Knowing the fact I was turning into a psychopath, I strode off. I was ashamed! I was humiliated.
You don't know my name and Jean Yale was me, but not a real remark. My tears streamed down with pain, I did not catch any joy meeting a guy I hardly paid a lot of effort to see him before. It was one year ago I dreamt to have meet such an intelligent guy but I kept failing. He was suppossedly a nobody in my life but I took everything he did seriously. I stalked, tweeted, replied him on Instagram, added him on everywhere I could find on internet. But it was years, or honestly a year ago. I hated the fact I was a loser in a search of you. I could make a crazy job barging in your office but who was I? I wanted to look professional but I, a loser.
I imagined things. What I would do if you really met me, and we fell in love. But my parents would not agree to have you as a son-in-law. You're kind, wise, it's just that....
When people are against our marriage, I imagined things I could work out to make us accepted in society. It involved murders, and every macabre listed infinitely. But I knew, it would not happen so why waste time?
I took chance to make it look very realistic I ended up writing it as a fiction. And today, I succeeded with three novels with no relation. Guess what, the main guy in those stories were all you. I falsified your name, your job but not your age and traits. I falsified my name and my job but not age and traits. There would be no way for you to find the novels but what had happened?
Meeting someone I killed in my books, is a crazy thing. I was scared. Turmoil was filling my vein since the day we met. I ran away, ran from reality I made.
And this day come, I was finally back to Malaysia, to my study place. He would never come here coincidently. This place is not his kind of favorite places to go for holidays. I knew him. I stalked him.
A few metres from the main gate of my institute, I went to get some food for lunch. A whiff-like voice came into my ear piercing my hijab, "The acronym in the novel stands for my name..."
I turned around quickly. All the coins and notes dropped on the floor and some of them slitted into the drain between the steel bar we stepped on.
"Remember me?" he greeted me. With smile.
😏
"Why do you leave this opened?" he asked, in a very tough Malaysian English accent.
"Saya tak suka panas, nak dia sejuk je," I hated hot drinks, hot foods, and whenever they sizzled on my tongue, it stayed anguished for more than two weeks.
He ignored the coffee matter, since it was the only thing he could spoke of when he actually meant to ask to sit next to me on this bench. "Wonder where you're from?" and he sat next to me, his hands full of travelling stuffs.
"State?"
"Yes, I am from Kuantan," he said, still strong in his very good English speaking technique.
"Well, somewhere," I broke my eyes free from him and turned my view onto the riverfront. The guy currently sitting next to me was the one I crashed in my imagination. He is nonetheless famous, not really type of guy my friend knew.
"Okay," he smirked. He took the camera off his neck by the strap and start tapping on it busily. I was there, hoping to get more questions from him. How could I meet him here? We were both Malaysians and why not Malaysia? I had been dreaming to see him, I gave hints but unnoticed, I put my dignity on stake to make him notice me but nothing! But, why now? why here? I hated him. I did not want to make acquaintance to the guy I wanted to kill.
"Hey, sir," I broke the silence.
"Yeah?" he turned off his camera, and leaned off the backrest of the bench to see me in the eyes.
"I adored you," I said, shamelessly.
"Well, that's quite a surprise," and it was not seemed as surprise to him. Maybe he was already being confronted in this same way.
"I don't think so," I let a heavy sigh down the moment, to show how aggrieved I was at the moment.
"But, why?"
"Because you are famous. Among youngsters. Mostly girls," I looked at his eyes. I stared into it and wishing that a knife could come into my hands now and had it penetrated these dark black iris in front of me.
"No, I am not. I'm just sharing things with the societies. You see, lots of people-"
"You know sapiosexual?" I broke in before he continued. I knew what he wanted to say. The aim he'd been fighting for on those medias. That was not a lie unlike a celebrity or a politician. I trusted him and that's the reason I wanted to send him away through martyr.
"It does sound familiar, maybe on Twitter,"
"It means attracted to intelligence of someone. I liked you because you are intelligent. I-"
"Wait a sec! We just met here, and you said these stuffs to me. Isn't it going to be very awkward? I am awkward now," He almost stood up but still his buttock pocket of his denim attached to the edge of the bench.
"I know..." I was trembling. Nobody done this. We met eye to eye for only 5 minutes. This whole humiliation hit me for seconds and made an unvanished scar for eternity. "Here it is," I fumbled in my big sling bag to get 'One Night in Lab' by a newbie author named Jean Yale.
He squinted at the white book displaying a cover of hands tangled. "A fiction?" he took it from my hand, leaving my heart thudding like it was going to explode.
"I know you are a good reader. Everybody knew. I want you to read," I took off from the bench and shoved my hands into the pocket of my jacket. "And put yourself in one of those characters you think fits you well," I stared at his hair, that was only visible to me when his eyesight were still glued on the cover. I waited for his response but he stayed stiffly on the bench without even looking up to see me or even ask why was I standing up.
"What is this..." he finally spoke up but I already left a yard away. I heard him and I heard no footsteps approaching me. Knowing the fact I was turning into a psychopath, I strode off. I was ashamed! I was humiliated.
You don't know my name and Jean Yale was me, but not a real remark. My tears streamed down with pain, I did not catch any joy meeting a guy I hardly paid a lot of effort to see him before. It was one year ago I dreamt to have meet such an intelligent guy but I kept failing. He was suppossedly a nobody in my life but I took everything he did seriously. I stalked, tweeted, replied him on Instagram, added him on everywhere I could find on internet. But it was years, or honestly a year ago. I hated the fact I was a loser in a search of you. I could make a crazy job barging in your office but who was I? I wanted to look professional but I, a loser.
I imagined things. What I would do if you really met me, and we fell in love. But my parents would not agree to have you as a son-in-law. You're kind, wise, it's just that....
When people are against our marriage, I imagined things I could work out to make us accepted in society. It involved murders, and every macabre listed infinitely. But I knew, it would not happen so why waste time?
I took chance to make it look very realistic I ended up writing it as a fiction. And today, I succeeded with three novels with no relation. Guess what, the main guy in those stories were all you. I falsified your name, your job but not your age and traits. I falsified my name and my job but not age and traits. There would be no way for you to find the novels but what had happened?
Meeting someone I killed in my books, is a crazy thing. I was scared. Turmoil was filling my vein since the day we met. I ran away, ran from reality I made.
And this day come, I was finally back to Malaysia, to my study place. He would never come here coincidently. This place is not his kind of favorite places to go for holidays. I knew him. I stalked him.
A few metres from the main gate of my institute, I went to get some food for lunch. A whiff-like voice came into my ear piercing my hijab, "The acronym in the novel stands for my name..."
I turned around quickly. All the coins and notes dropped on the floor and some of them slitted into the drain between the steel bar we stepped on.
"Remember me?" he greeted me. With smile.
😏
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