How to use this Page

 
Hi Folks,

Here is a new short story. I took quite some time write it and get it neat and tidy, but it is still "work in progress".

I thank Caren for giving the impetus (the reason more like), Carmen for an early proof-reading and Natalie for helping me out with the details, the Malay (saya "really" perlu pelajaran <= and I'm quite sure I bungled this one too) and the proof-reading.

Tell me what you think.



The Snow-boy



Once upon a Time, there was this strange boy who was shunned by everybody because he was made of snow. He was always cold to the touch and dripping water, and when he sneezed, snowflakes were coming out of his stalactite of a nose.

He used to spend his time in the freezer during Summer, and started to look happy when Autumn came. During Winter, his schoolmates would try and make snowballs out of him. He would laugh at this prank because he only had to take snow on the ground to grow a new arm or a new leg.

Time passed, because that's what Time is good at doing. The snow-boy grew up and became quite a tall snow-boy. He was usually sad because his friends always considered him as a snowman, whereas he was just a boy made of snow. He would remember pranks played upon him, like the time when they tried to attach a carrot on his face, or when they unplugged the freezer, just for fun.

And then the weather changed. Nobody knew why but the days grew hotter; Summer lasted longer, Winter shortened drastically and became colder – even the snow-boy felt the cold grip his legs and arms. His parents, seeing his condition worsen, decided to move up North, where it was said were gentler climes. At the end of Winter, they bought a new house in a small village near the Arctic circle.

He was worried his parents would not sustain the low temperatures, but they put on jumpers, muffs and woollen hats – they were like you and me, you see – and scarves and gloves and boots, and they smiled because their son was happy there. He would miss his friends from time to time, but here people wouldn't look down upon him or frown at him, tutting and shaking their head. In his new home, he even put on some weight, there being so much snow. He didn't miss school any longer. He could attend it every day of the year, and even went to school during the weekend, for what he learnt there pleased him immensely. One teacher grew rather fond of him, and with him he learnt a lot about the world. He gave him plastic gloves so he could read books without ruining them. He would put plastic bags and buckets under the chair so that he could watch movies.

He eventually realised his former friends had not been friendly to him at all, and he got new ones who didn't play tricks on him, but with him, including him in their games during lunch break. He would spend days on end outside, watching the Northern Lights, making snowmen with his friends, loitering in the library and reading books in the freezer.

Then came the day when he stumbled across an old, weather-beaten travel-log, half-hidden at the far end of a rack, at the very back of the library, where the books that were no longer in mint condition were confined. It had been written by some explorer who had discovered a small island off the East coast of Malaysia. Starting off from this country, which he described at length, he fought great seas and greedy pirates and other water leaks to finally reach this patch of dry white sand beach riddled with lava boulders, all covered in a thick layer of guano. There, in the island's thick jungle, he discovered what the reader could interpret as dragons the size of baby elephants – whatever size that represented, for he had never seen any elephant, nor any dragon – beautiful, rainbow-coloured birds, trees aplenty that yielded fruits as big as a man's head, and sweeter than apples. There, he discovered what he described as a “Treasure more precious than gold itself.”

The book made a co

Pas de Semaine 7 pour le moment...désolé !

No Week 7 for the moment...apologies.