…entre nous soit dit…

between me you and the gatepost.

So Sick of this Shit…

People dogging out and deciding at the last moment to BAIL on their friends is one of the things that really bugs me. Especially when it’s a big group of people and then all of a sudden one decides they don’t want to go and so then all the others start finding excuses. It’s the fucking lamest thing ever. I get so sick of it. Oh and it’s even better when it’s in the same fucking week that they all go out and don’t invite you but talk about it in a conversation on Facebook that you were invited into. Then when you mention it, they give you a pity invite and HOUR BEFORE they all go out. Go die in a hole girls. Thanks a lot for proving what great friends you can all be sometimes. I’m sick of making all the effort and never getting any in return. So fuck you all.

That’s all.

Ps. check out this site: The Bro Code

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August 29, 2009 Posted by | Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Quote of the Week 14

 

French is my favourite – fantastic language, especially to curse with. Nom de Dieu de putain de bordel de merde de saloperie de connard d’encule de ta mere! [Translation: Name of God of whore of brothel of shit of filth of fucking your mother up the ass.] You see, it’s like wiping your ass with silk, I love it.”

– Merovingian (The French Guy) – The Matrix Reloaded –

 

This is this week’s Quote of the Week seeing as French is constantly on my mind at the moment… however, that’s usually because I’m feeling guilty about my lack of attention to it when I really should be focusing on it a lot harder seeing as a lot balances on me at least passing the unit this semester. It screws up a lot of plans if I don’t pass it. But we shall see. It would probably help if I at least started going to my classes, let alone actually tried studying for a bit at home. It’s not one of those subjects that you can ignore all semester and then cram for in study week (which is what I do for every other subject I ever do).

This quote at least shows the fun side of French. It’s pure brilliance if you ask me. 😀
 

August 28, 2009 Posted by | French, Movie Quotes, people, Quote of the Week, Quotes by People | 1 Comment

Balibo

the balibo five journalists 1975 Balibo the Movie

Tonight I went to see the film Balibo and it was nothing short of amazing. At university I take both Communications and Politics and I was told by 3 teachers in one day to go see this movie… Tonight I finally decided to go see it and I’m so glad I did.

balibo the movie poster

Here’s what IMDB had to say about the movie:

As Indonesia prepares to invade the tiny nation of East Timor, five Australian based journalists go missing. Four weeks later, veteran foreign correspondent Roger East is lured to East Timor by the young and charismatic José Ramos-Horta to tell the story of his country and investigate the fate of the missing men. As East’s determination to uncover the truth grows, the threat of invasion intensifies and an unlikely friendship develops between the last foreign correspondent in East Timor and the man who will become President. BALIBO is a political thriller that tells the true story of crimes that have been covered up for over thirty years.

The film was nothing short of amazing and I especially thought that the use of some of the filming techniques was really what gave that authentic feel to the film and what helped to make it so confronting. In particular, the use of grainy film for the sections about the Balibo Five. The change between the grainy film and the modern high definition quality for the sections following East’s journey were smooth and barely noticed.

The only downside for me was that every time I saw Gyton Grantley (who portrayed Garry Cunningham), I automatically thought of him from his role in hit TV series Underbelly as Carl Williams. That’s how I know and recognise him, so it was a little distracting for me. The rest of the characters seemed very well cast, although I’m a little reserved as to wether Anthony Lapaglia was the best man for the role of Roger East. For the majority of the movie, he put in a stella performance, but there was one moment at the end of the film where they focus in on a close up shot of his face as he says dramatically, “I’m Australian.” That point just made me cringe at the over dramatised hollywood seeping in there. Oscar Isaac was the run away performance, even though he was only the supporting actor.

Malcom Rennie Balibo Fivecunningham balibo five australiaAnother thing that I thought ought to be commended though, is the strong ties the film had to the actual true history – keeping it as close as possible. By that I don’t just mean telling the tale accurately, but also recreating and re-enacting images and what film we actually do have from all the journalists that were in East Timor and concerned with the film.

Example: Left the real Greg Shackelton  Right Damon Gameau’s portrayal of Shackelton in the film).

Seeing this film, was the first time that I’ve actual felt scared about my career choice. There was a particular scene in the film that shows the death of the Balibo Five that was very confronting to me. When they stabbed some of the members of the group, I was really shocked by it. If there’s one death that I really don’t want to be my fate, then it’s definitely being stabbed. Except, that’s one very real occurrence and risk I would run working in a war torn area, although it is more likely I would be shot given today’s use of guns being vastly more popular thanks to cheaper arms deals.

Since deciding I was going to become a journalist, I’ve always wanted to do international journalism/correspondence and go to war torn areas or conflict zones. I wanted to write a piece that would change lives and break a story which would bring the truth to millions. Of course I was originally inspired by Jennifer Conolly’s role in Blood Diamond, but that’s a story where the journalist goes into a high risk area, survives and manages to write her article. It’s hollywood – she had to survive to tell the tale. 

Watching this movie though, it was very confronting because it was like, “hey you know you might die really young if you choose to do this”. It’s not like there’s ever a year when we don’t hear about at least one journalist being killed somewhere amongst a fight. A couple of years ago there were even those journalists held hostage and then beheaded. The terrorists filmed it all and it was broadcast. Their poor families. I’ve always joked around when people ask me what kind of journalist I want to be and I’ve replied with a casual answer of, “Oh you know… One of those journos that gets blown up in the middle east. I want to do correspondence.” Now I’m thinking that I’ve probably jinxed myself big time.

Greg Shackelton Balibo

 I really wanted to include this still from the film (to the left) on a side note, purely because it reminded me so much of my Dad. He owns a series two Land Rover exactly like the one used in the film (with minor differences in the back windows and back door). Not only the car, but also Shakleton’s look with the hair, boots and the shorts – I remember my Dad having that exactly look when we used to go on holidays as a child… although I remember him wearing thongs as opposed to the boots more often than not. There were quite a few scenes in the movie that reminded me of the very Aussie lifestyle and the images of Aussie’s you see from that era – especially of the boys in AFL at the time… I believe that was the time of the mustache was it not?

Shooting Balibo Maniaty

On another side note, I found an article from the Indonesian News (in english) and it says that they’re still denying that they murdered the five Journos, simply that they got caught in between fire from the Indonesians and the East Timorese Government. There’s also articles from the ABC about how the Australian Government has failed the Balibo Five at bringing there murderers to justice, and The Age, which is an interview with Tony Maniaty who was a journalist in East Timor at the time and crossed paths with the Balibo Five as he fled the country with his life. He has now written a book about the making of the movie and his memories of the whole experience called ‘Shooting Balibo’ (pictured right). I’m actually quite interested now to read that. He also teaches at the Sydney University of Technology, so I’m quite interested in that as well. Maybe do a year post grad there? Or my honours?

So back to the point: for anyone who hasn’t seen this movie, I thoroughly recommend it. Go see it NOW!

August 27, 2009 Posted by | journalism, just a quick note, movie review | 4 Comments

Short Story #3: Camp Point Blanc (Part III)

When he didn’t answer, Mel whispered, “He… He kicked the guy in the head and he went limp again. Then Anton grabbed the guns and knives and ran back to where I was hiding.” She held up another gun in her hand, this one black and smaller than the first one that Anton still clutched in his hands pointed down.

“Shit Anton! Alright… Look, I’ve been here for a while now. Together, we’ve been here far too long and we’ve got to keep going. We’ll make for the road south of here, on the edge of the woods. It shouldn’t be too far now, but we’ve got to go now.

“What about the others?” Mel was visibly shaking in fright now, her eyes wide with fear.

“Look we don’t know what’s happened to them, but they know the plan. We’ve got to go!” Anton had caught onto the immediate importance of getting as far away as possible from the camp. He walked out the door and down the corridor that lead to both the front door where Annie had broken in and the rooms at the south end of the house. They all followed him as he stationed himself at the edge of another window and peeked around the edge of the metal blinds that had been pulled down.

“I can’t see anyone else out there. None of us and none of them. There’s some steps leading up to the house outside… I think it must be to a door in the next room or something. Annie go check. That’ll be our way out and we’ll make a run for it.”

Annie swiftly and silently moved from the window into the next room and found the small door. “It’s in here,” she whispered back just loud enough to be heard from the next room.

“Ok I’ll stay at the window, when I say go open the door slowly. Mel, you go in there with Annie. Once you’ve opened it Annie, stay completely still, and I’ll watch outside to see if there’s any movement there. If not, I’ll come join you and we’ll bolt. Got it?”

“Got it. Thank god we’re finally getting out of here.”

Annie tensed herself as Mel joined her, making sure to stay out of the direct view of the door. Then Anton’s low voice came from the other room, “Go.” Annie slowly opened the door, praying that it didn’t creek. For an abandoned house, it was strangely well looked after with the new additions to all doors and windows as well as all doors being well oiled at the hinges. It opened without so much as a groan and Annie thanked who ever it was looking after them from above.

All was silent and on edge as Annie and Mel waited dead still for Anton to give them the all clear and join them. All they could hope for was that one-degree of safety before they made their mad dash for survival. There was no way they would survive the rest of the night in the tiny house, despite it only being a matter of hours until daylight. After what seemed like the longest wait in the world, Anton moved silently beside them and they moved out the door and down the stairs to the woods again. Anton silently motioned to the south of the house, and they set out on a hurried trot.

A sudden shout behind them, made the trio stop dead in their tracks and turn rearward, towards the noise. Behind them in the woods, on the hill behind the house, a black figure could be seen. As they spotted him, another figure came into view from behind some other trees on the hill. When Annie spotted the last figures that appeared, the blood drained from her face. It was Caley.

By this stage, Anton had also spotted it and had covered Mel’s mouth to stop her screaming and giving away their position. He was slowly moving sideways to the cover of a large tree and with wide eyes, beckoned Annie to do the same. Annie followed as she continued to watch the scene on the hill where she had previously ran from to the safety of the house.

The rest played out in slow motion as she watched Caley run down the slope towards the house, slip, and lose her footing. She slid a couple of metres down the slope, hitting rocks and leaving a trail in the leaves that covered the ground, until finally she found a purchase for her feet and stopped herself. A black figure appeared from behind the trees to the left of Caley who was still unaware, and lunged towards her. Mel began to scream behind Anton’s hand just as the figure caught Caley and in a swift motion of his black gloved hand, her head lolled to the side and she slid to the ground.

The other figures on the hill turned towards where the three of them were hiding and Mel began to panic again, her eyes wide with fear over the top Anton’s hand. Adrenaline was all that controlled all three of them as Anton yelled “run!” and let go of Mel. His stolen gun was in one hand and his knife in the other. Annie ran to Mel’s side and pulled on her arm to get her moving. The black figures were moving rapidly down the slope behind them with ease in pursuit.

Dragging Mel’s arm behind her, Annie realised that Mel still limply clasped the gun in her hand. She made a grab for it shouting to Mel, “I’m a better shot than you, get your knife and run!” Something twitched inside Mel at that moment as she released the gun and clasped the knife more firmly in the other hand, picking up speed and overtaking Annie. The race was on again, except unlike some running race in primary school, the winner of this race got to live.

Annie’s thudding feet picked up the pace as she made a made dash back into the thick of the woods heading south. She could only just see Anton and Mel running in front and to the sides of her, but after only a few minutes of full out sprinting, she could also hear the sounds of pursuit hot on their tails. Mel must of heard it as well because a scream escaped her mouth again and she ran that tiny bit faster.

All the while, leaves and braches were snapping past, trees and bushes became hazy again as they flashed past. Annie was watching not only in front of herself, making sure not to trip for risk of being killed, but also in her peripherals for any sign of attack. It didn’t matter though, she could hear who ever was behind her, gaining distance. She turned just in time to see a black figure mere meters behind Mel to her left and she fired the gun in her hand. A loud crack sounded as the gun went off and the figure fell to the ground. He was still rolling around on the ground as he disappeared behind them, so he must have been wounded. She kept running.

Anton was in front of them when his gun sounded, the shot reverberating around the woods thanks to the thick canopy above them. He kept moving forwards, so Annie and Mel followed suit, not knowing what danger he had fired at. They discovered it when Mel went down. Out of nowhere a black figure tackled her to the ground, her screaming the only sign of the struggle.

Annie stopped and fired two shots at the man. The first one missing and the second one finally immobilising him as his body went limp on top of Mel. Annie waited for a second, preying for Mel to move, to show a sign of life, but there was nothing and she was no more. “Mel! Get up Mel! Please!” Annie’s voice sounded strained as she began to move slowly away from the scene.

Abruptly the shadows were broken as a figure rushed over the limp bodies at Annie, arm raised with a glinting knife. Without thinking, her finger pulled on the metal trigger again, and the gun fired at the assassin. He staggered as it hit his shoulder, but still he kept running at her. For the first time that night Annie screamed. She didn’t know if it was a scream of terror or anger, but it ripped through her throat and poured energy into her hands as she squeezed the trigger repeatedly.

Each bullet landed squarely in the man’s chest and finally he fell to the ground in front of her feet. His hand thudded on top of her shoe and she quickly backed away. When he didn’t move again for another second, she quickly dashed forward to steal the gun holstered on his hip. Throwing down her now empty gun next to his riddled body, she sprinted back away from the scene of the two men she had killed and her dead friend.

Anton was nowhere to be seen in front of her. 

[to be continued…. one day]

August 26, 2009 Posted by | my writings, short stories | Leave a comment

Short Story #3: Camp Point Blanc (Part II)

Both figures stiffened, their eyes searching the room for the whisper. They looked at each other and one of them replied hesitantly, “Yes. Who’s there?”

She resheathed her small blade and walked out into the room slowly from her hiding spot on the other side of the doorframe, her hands poised carefully in the air in front of her. “It’s me, Annie.”

“Shit Annie, you scared the hell out of us!” Anton lowered his arms and in a flash of light Annie caught sight of a gun in his hands.

“Oh yeah, because this whole night hasn’t already done that for us?” came the sarcastic reply from Annie as she moved towards them both for tense embraces. “Have you seen any of the others? Did anyone follow you two?”

Mel shook her head. She was shaking and Annie could feel it as they hugged. Mel’s voice was tiny as she whispered, “We haven’t seen anyone since Caley saw that guy and we all ran for it. Everyone split up then. Caley, Jamie and Emma ran in different directions to us and we haven’t seen them since. Then we heard…” Her voice trailed off as a small tear fell down her pale cheek and her chin began to quiver.

“… We heard a scream not long after we were separated,” Anton finished for her. “We didn’t know if it was you or Emma. But I guess seeing as you’re here…” Silence filled the room again as the facts started to sink in. It was a harsh reality. Emma was the first one from their group that had been caught since Mr Simmons, the teacher for their group, had never returned from going to the toilet late yesterday afternoon. The six students who barely knew each other before the week’s beginning had bonded fast as survival became the most important thing.

They had returned to the base camp after Mr Simmons had disappeared, but were stopped short of entering it when the screams had started. From the tree house vantage point on the outskirts of camp, Jamie had climbed to the top and seen blood trails in the central courtyard of the campsite. Where they had once sung songs around a camp fire, there had been some sort of struggle, and that was what he had relayed to the others in the group. It was at that point they had decided they would stay under cover near by as long as possible to see if anyone they knew appeared and could tell them what was going on.

When the screams and shouts became more frequent and a black figure was seen running through the bushes to the left of their hiding spot, they had begun to panic. The slash of silver light reflecting off a gun for a split second sent them over the edge into fully adrenaline pumped mode. They had decided that they would all head back into the thick of the woods and away from the trouble that was obviously occurring at the campsite. Hopefully, to relatively more safety than where they had been.

At first they had been cautious and ran in a line from one tree to the next trying to remain under cover. When they had been running for what seemed like hours and the dark of night had fully set in, they stopped and regrouped. Sharing out the small amount of snacks that each search party had been given in the afternoon, they had argued about where they were on the map. It was only after they had a consensus, that they had then started planning what they were going to do.

Anton had been the only one with a decent idea o what to do and took charge. “The boys in my dorm were trying to freak each other out last night and one of Nathan told a story about a small house not far from here in the middle of the woods. He said there was an aboriginal boy who had lived there since his family were attacked by some wolves in the woods. I say we go there and stay there for as long as possible unless followed and then we try finding the road on the outskirts of the woods over that way. If we can make it to the road, we should be able to find someone to help us.”

“I just want to get out of this hell.” Emma had replied. “Let’s stick to that plan. We’ll continue the way we’re going now until we get to the house. If someone starts to follow us, then don’t stop. Keep going.”

“What if we get split up?” Mel had already become panicky.

“If we get split up then meet at the house. If you get there don’t wait too long for anyone else to rock up. You’ve got to keep moving in case someone is following us. You’ll just be trapped in there. Always keep moving.” That was Annie’s idea.

Remembering that brought her back to the present again and she realised that Anton had been talking to her while she was stuck in her memories of just a few hours earlier. “Sorry what did you say Anton? I missed that.”

“Are you alright Annie?”

“Yeah I’m fine, let’s just figure out how to get out of this mess and get home. You said you didn’t know where the others are. Did you have anyone following you guys? And how on earth did you get a gun?”

“After we lost the others we came across one guy in black – one of them. He was passed out cold on the ground and we stopped only long enough to check it wasn’t a trap. When we were sure there was no one else around I went over to him to see if I could get any idea of what was going on and who the fuck they are.”

“Did you find anything?”

“Nothing. He was dressed all in black – he even had a black ski mask on. He had two guns and a cache of knives – one on each sleeve and ankle. These guys are supposed to be silent and I don’t think they came with any intentions of taking prisoners. From everything we’ve heard and seen tonight, I’d say they’re only killing.” His voice was hardening as he said it. They may have only been 18 years old, but they weren’t fools. They had to face the truth if they wanted to survive, and they all knew it. A small choked sob escaped from Mel as more tears fell down her cheek before Anton continued urgently, his lip curling in disgust, “When I went to remove his mask the guy started to wake up and mumble something, but I didn’t wait long enough to listen to it.”

“Anton what did you do?”

 [to be continued]

August 26, 2009 Posted by | my writings, short stories | Leave a comment

Procrastination and over thinking things…

I think I may have a small problem when it comes to guys… I’m beginning to notice a trend, which I really don’t like and don’t want to be true at all. I’ve noticed lately that I seem to have an attraction to guys that I eventually find out are already taken. Of course, with my Boss I knew he was in a relationship before the crush developed, so that was an exception. But is it purely coincidence that as soon as he was almost available I moved on from the 3 year long obsession? I cannot ignore the fact that there were certain events which culminated in me moving on, and I’m sure that I’m just trying to connect this up to fit my new trend. That’s the way the mind works after all – piecing things together to fit into new theories that can scare ourselves.

It’s not only my boss though. At my first tutorial for second year creative writing, the first guy that I met was slightly older than me, but nice nonetheless. I know it sounds foolish, but I felt like there was a connection between us, and since then it has been 3 hours every Tuesday of watching out the corner of my eyes for when he stares at me, or me listening intently to what he says. At the first tutorial, I hadn’t noticed that he was wearing a wedding ring on his finger, but the next week I did. While he was talking, he mentioned briefly something about wanting to write about the last year that he spent in Africa with his wife. As he said this, he looked straight at me… and yet I know he stares too. It’s even stranger because of not only that, but I think he also slightly reminds me of my boss. He’s been in the army, he’s buff, and he’s been the state champion at hang gliding for the last 5 years. Amazing no?

However, two’s not enough is it? Another example: the first guy that I met from my college. Last year at a party I met a small group of people from my college at a party of a mutual friend who goes to another college. I was instantly drawn to him and out of the few people I had met from the college that night, he was the one that had stuck in my memory and the only one I had thought ‘”what if…?” about. I had looked forward to seeing him again when I came to college, but alas, he has a steady girlfriend who he has been with for over a year now. She also lives here at the college. As it is, I’m fairly sure he’s a bit of a play boy, playing the girls for all he’s worth… even though he’s supposedly officially a one woman man these days. But for some reason I still feel that connection, attraction and I suppose to some extent even some envy of his girlfriend.

The worst part is that I know that I don’t want to be that girl. The one that steals other people’s boyfriends, then gets bored with them and tosses them away. I don’t want to be the one that ruins relationships and lives – even if it’s the boyfriends decision and not mine like it was in the case of my Boss. I don’t want to be ‘the other woman’. In fact, I despise that. So why am I subconsciously sabotaging that and becoming my own worst enemy?

I think what it is that draws me to these fellas and other is the eyes. I look for a connection with people. When I look at someone and I can look into their eyes and actually see some depth in them, I feel a connection of sorts. I don’t know what it is. I know it sounds incredibly corny and childish, but I like to, I dunno, “fall into” someone’s eyes. I like to be able to search their eyes when something’s wrong and be able to find more depth than if I was looking into someone’s eyes that had nothing there – just blank and shallow eyes. Maybe I’m just attracted to guys who like secrets or are extremely emotional in a quiet and guarded way. They’re all intellectuals and hide a lot beneath the surface althought they fool most people… Maybe secretive and mysterious is my type. Someone who is smart and challenging. Someone that I can never quite figure out. maybe that’s it? Maybe, once I have them figured out and I have an opportunity to actually be with someone properly, maybe that’s when I start to get bored really quickly.

Who knows. Maybe I have a type. Maybe I don’t.

Wither way, it’s sad really.

August 26, 2009 Posted by | bored, idiotic, life, love, observation, people, procrastinating, secrets, trouble | 4 Comments

Short Story #3: Camp Point Blanc (Part I)

The woods were crashing past. Tree trunks became a blur, branches whipped past and leaves lashed at her clothes. She was running. Running for her life.

Patches of light and dark were flashing past and playing tricks on her eyes as she tried desperately to see where she was going and not trip over or run into anything. One second of hesitation or mistake could be fatal. One slip on the scattered stones amongst the dewy undergrowth as she ran down the slope and she was a goner.

One snap of the neck and she had a split second glimpse behind her, but she couldn’t see anyone or anything following her. She tried straining to hear any signs of pursuit, but the blood was pounding in her ears from the adrenaline rush that had started when her mad dash through the dark woods had. What good were her senses when adrenaline cancelled them all out at her time of greatest need? She focused back in on running as fast as she could, until finally her sight granted her a seed of hope and relief – the house was up ahead.

Through the dim light she could see the small house sitting in the tiny clearing. To anyone else it would have seemed like a pathetic and run down house, with the only signs of being inhabited recently being the newish looking windows and security doors, which were visible only to the scrutinising eye. To her, it was a beacon of hope, a refuge, her safe haven for a short space of time. She thanked God it wasn’t a fable and only the setting for a ghost story.

She leapt the last log and ducked under a low hanging branch as she made it into the small space before the house. The last few seconds before reaching the house were ones spent looking out her peripherals to make sure there was no immediate danger behind her, and then finally reaching the door she grabbed a rock at her feet smashing in the tiny frosted window beside the door and where she hoped the lock would be situated on the other side.

Sticking her arm through the hole with disregard for the broken fragments of glass, mere seconds stretched out for what seemed like minutes, as fear took over and she grasped hopelessly for a latch on the other side of the door. Finally hearing the click as she flicked the latch, she withdrew her arm hastily. Her foot slammed into the door sending it flying open and she jumped through gratefully, plastering the door shut behind her and sinking to the floor.

Safety.

She knew that it couldn’t last. She had but a few minutes to wait and regroup herself. She didn’t know where the others had gone or whether they were safe. The agreement was if they separated, they would meet here, but they weren’t to wait too long or they would be trapped inside the house. What was meant to be a fun vacation had turned into a disaster.

Their camp was supposed to last one week. One week of leadership qualities, games, making connections with other youth leaders from across the country, and most of all, it was supposed to be a week of fun. After Elsa had gone missing yesterday, things had rapidly turned into a nightmare that was going to be hard to forget.

Elsa went missing around lunchtime and a search had been set up quickly to find her. A girl walking around on her own away from a lone camp set up in 10 kilometres of woods, was never a good thing. A girl like Elsa, who was one of the more timid of the group was a terrifying thing. Groups of five or six students with a teacher or adult each had been set up as search parties to look for her. By the time darkness fell, screams and shouts were being heard from around the campsite and surrounding woods. Never more than one scream or shout sounding the same. Each one was a different person, and just as bone chilling.

The adrenalin had begun to kick in after night had fallen and the sounds began to stop. Anyone left had adopted silence or whispering to the rest of their group.  When the moon was fully overhead and glowing between the treetops, the action had truly started.

A sudden rapid tapping at the window in the next room started her heart beating rapidly again as she broke away from her thoughts and back flashes. The scraping of metal on metal sounded as she picked herself silently up off the floor and edged to the near by doorway to peek into the room. Her hand reached down to her ankle slowly drawing out a tiny sliver of cold hard silver. The sharp edge gleaming as it was drawn out of the small ankle sheath and she readied herself in a crouched stance, mentally preparing herself for attack.

The dropped blinds over the window were moving now and it was clear that someone had already opened the window beyond. A shape formed as a foot hopped through the window frame and became visible below the bulging sheet blinds. A second foot appeared hastily after the first, followed by the low desperate whisper of, “Quick!” Another set of feet chased the first pair, as the window was rashly slid shut again, a small click signifying it was locked in.

The two figures moved clear of the blinds, checking out their surroundings, all the while tense and weary. Relief flushed through her whole body as she recognised them and relaxed.

“Mel? Anton?”

[to be continued]

August 26, 2009 Posted by | my writings, short stories | Leave a comment