Macam Mana Nak Cari Jodoh di Malaysia?

900k ahli di sana sedang mengunggu anda di Baitul Jannah. Mungkin.. jodoh awak ada sana.

Daftar Sekarang!

You never know


random thoughts put into a 3-parts story..

Part 1

When I saw her at the market, she was with a kid buying groceries. The kid was 6 to 7 years old. He was a boy. They didn’t look the same though, they didn’t have the same nose, or eyes. Neither did their facial expression look the same. However, from what I saw, from where I was standing, I could see there were lots of connections between them.

I watched him tug on her shirttail, ordering her to bend down. When she did, the boy whispered something in her ear. While whispering, his eyes wandered around, to make sure no one was watching. I saw her expression changed. She was suddenly worried, and insecure. She gave the boy a pat on the head, and smiled warmly, to assure him that everything’s fine.

She grabbed her basket and moved into the aisle next to the counter. She picked up her groceries and placed them on the counter, with the boy still tugging on her shirt. Occasionally, she would turn around and speak to the boy. The boy would nod obediently.

I watched her quickly walk out of the market as soon as she paid, and got her groceries in paper bags. She had 3 paper bags with her. She held 2 in her left hand, one in her right. The boy followed her from behind, still tugging on her shirt. The boy was practically hiding behind her.

I followed her to her car.

Before she could open the door, I stopped her.

"Hello" I said.

She spun around with a gasp. She nearly dropped her bags. That was when I saw her handbag. I didn’t notice it earlier. She had it hung over her shoulder. It was a black. I supposed it’s made by leather.

The boy hid behind her. He was scared of me. I didn’t look pleasant at all that day. I was wearing a torn blue t-shirt and torn blue jeans. The color of the jeans was fading, there were little white spots all over it.

The boy tugged on her shirt, bringing her shoulders down a little. She shrugged him off while trying to put on a calm expression on her face. She had her eyes on me, and I had mine on hers.

"Hi" She replied after a while. She was stuttering. I knew she was scared. I didn’t really want to scare her. I smiled. She smiled back. I watched as the kid peeked at me. I glanced at him. He quickly covered his face behind her again.

"I’m sorry if I scared you, but I wanted to tell you that .. I believe we have met before"

I wasn’t sure if I have met her before, but her face was familiar. It was also hard to forget that face. It’s even harder to remember whom did it belong to. All I knew was I had to take a picture of her.

"I .. don’t .. remember" She stuttered again.

"It’s alright. Can I take a picture of you?"


I smiled.

"Just a picture. I promise"

"What for? Why?" She raised her eyebrow and stared at me. She was uncertain of my intention. She was also worried, and she was still scared.

After a while, she agreed. It was hard to make her believe that I didn’t want anything except her picture. However, I did it. I got her picture.

And now, I’m sitting here infront of my typewriter, typing it all out with the picture right next to me. It was just 2 days ago. I have a newspaper. It lies peacefully next to my typewriter. I have it opened on page 4. Her face is there. But it’s wounded, and she’s hurt.

I don’t know if she’s still alive or not, but she was hurt bad. She was hurt so bad. And all I ever wished for, all I ever asked for was her picture. Maybe I should have talked to her. I should have told her that things would be fine for her. When I saw her the first time, I knew she wasn’t happy, neither was her boy. I wonder what’s going to happen to her boy. He lost his mother. He lost the only love that can keep him alive. He lost the only love that can keep him strong.

Where’s the father? Why isn’t he around? Why doesn’t he care? Does he even know that his wife is dead, and his son is going through a hard time?

I don’t know. I guess you’ll never know. They don’t question things like these. They don’t because they can’t do anything about it. But you don’t blame faith, you don’t blame destiny, don’t blame God either.

It ain’t his fault. It’s yours. He gave you life, gave you the world, and you deal with it. You live it, your way. He’s just there to guide you through it.

As for me, I’m living it fine. It’s just that, I should have picked her up, and kept her safe with me. It’s too late now. There’s no turning back.

He stopped writing. He placed the paper on top of her picture. He took a bottle out of the drawer. He turned the cap anti-clockwise and drank the liquid. He closed his eyes and they stayed shut forever.

Part 2

"Zac, you’re up next"


The door closed behind him. He stared into his own eyes. He didn’t want to do it earlier, but when he thought about it again, he must and he should. He watched the face in the mirror infront of him. Gloomy, sad, confused. He ran his fingers through his hair. He couldn’t believe he had kept that hair for almost 5 years.

He was hiding behind it. He was scared to cut it off. His true self lies behind the hair. He wasn’t what people expected him to be. He was different. He was weird and strange.

"I hope I’m doing this right" He thought as he stood up, revealing the rest of him infront of the mirror. He was tall, and huge. He had a pair of red shirt and blue pants on. He grabbed the folded paper on the desk. He walked to the door, switched off the light and walked outside.

He walked calmly to the studio. The hallway was empty but it wasn’t dark.

"There you are! Come on! Kenny’s finished!" The director of the show grabbed his hand and dragged him into the studio.

"Okay, Zac. Sit on that sofa. Yes. The second one. Okay. Now face the second camera. No no. Not there. Here. Okay good"

He nodded at the director. He glanced at the person next to him.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" She asked with concern.

"Yes" He answered.

"Okay, ready?"

She smiled at the director. He nodded.

"Okay. Action"

"Hello. Welcome to "True TV". I’m Christine Jeffrens. Today, we have Zachary Hanson with us." She turned to his direction. "How are you today, Zachary?"

"Fine. Fresh. Healthy" He smiled at the camera.

"Are you ready?"


"Okay. You may begin"

He shifted nervously in his seat. He unfolded the paper.

I didn’t want to do this earlier. I was scared. I was afraid of what people would think of me after I read this infront of the whole world. I was unsure of what I was feeling, I was also unsure of what would happen if people know what I am.

Then, I thought of it again. I became strong, I became brave. I am what I am. I want everyone to know, because it’s killing me. It’s killing me because I pretend. I hate to pretend. I hate to act. So I’m doing this now, infront of a camera. I hope they understand. I hope you understand.

Hanson is a great band. I’m part of Hanson, and I am a Hanson. It has been almost forever that I let myself be involved in Hanson, and in music. I believe it’s time that I change my life. Everyday, there’s nothing that practically surprises me anymore. Everyday, the schedule has been made.

I’m sick of living. I’m sick of living a fixed life. I can’t try new things, I’m not allowed to.

But guess what? I did something different two months ago. I took drugs, and I also discovered I was a gay. Two months ago, I also realized that Tay and Ike are selfish bastards.


Ask yourself, Tay.

Look at you, Ike.

Then, look at me.

My ideas never meant anything to you guys. My lyrics didn’t mean anything to you. If it did, you’d have picked Bridges Of Stone but no. Instead, you picked In The City! You even made me sing that horrible I Wish I Was There!

You made me sing lead on Lucy too.

Anyway, it’s okay. I’m gay and I’m good looking. I have a boyfriend and I know I will live a happier life than you two. Mom and dad, thanks for everything. My brother, and sisters, I love you.

I’m sorry if I disappoint anyone. Thanks. Bye.


"Uh.. sorry .. yes?"

"Are you ready to read it out?"

"Hmm.. yes"

He read it. As soon as he finished, he felt freedom.

Part 3

"We have at least 20 minutes to kill, and I know how I want to do it"

He swallowed with a frown on his face. "Rae, come on! Here? In a funeral limousine? For frigging God’s sakes, we just left the graveyard of your dead husband. Show a little respect"

She leaned into him and began opening his black trousers. She worked on his belt first, snapping it off him. "Sure I can’t change your mind?"

She unzipped his zipper and reached inside, pulling his organ out and devouring it. She felt it come to life immediately. She lifted her head and stared at him with a mischievous sparkle in her eye.

"I see a part of you is interested" She winked.

He looked toward the front of the car. "Can he see us?"

"No" She lied. The glass that was separating the driver and them was transparent and it could only stop sound. She didn’t care what the driver could see as long as he didn’t hit any bumps.

"Well … " He pressed his lips together tightly. He stared at her for a moment, and sighed. "Let’s get real fast"

He roughly lifted up her black dress, but she stopped him. She pushed his hands away.

"What?" He asked.

"Isaac, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"What do you mean what the fuck is wrong with me?" He let out an exasperated sigh and threw himself against the seat. He zipped his pants.

"I don’t know. You seem stupid and idiotic nowadays. And you’re strange. And .. aah fuck it!" She grabbed him and kissed his lips. She bit on his upper-lip.

"THE FUCK . .. " He screamed and broke away from her. He pressed his lips on his palm.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He asked.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, dammit?"

"You fucking bit my lip. And you fucking want to have sex with me in a funeral limousine and your fucking husband just fucking died. And there’s nothing fucking wrong with that?"

He had to taste his blood because it was dripping uncontrollably.

"Fuck. It won’t fucking stop bleeding!"






She started weeping and banging herself against the door.

"Fuck you" She said.

"I fucking care, Rae. I fucking care. If I didn’t, I’d leave, I’d fucking leave you. But I didn’t. I stayed. I fucking stayed"

"Fuck you. Fuck the world"

"Driver, stop the fucking car" He shouted in the intercom.

"Yes sir"

The car stopped with a sudden halt.

"I had enough. You fucking live life the way you fucking want it to be, okay? I’m fucking leaving. Bye" With that, he opened the door and left.

"Fuck you"

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  • 1) i have to say readers shud do a lot of thinking when reading your story. or was it just me? anyway, i love the perfect conversations. the woman must have got really strong bite to have the guy's lips dripping with blood ya?
  • 2) actually i dont really understand. *blame my poor efficiency*

  • (Author)
    3) to uculer and blur, thanks for dropping by hehe.. to me writing ada due objective.. for u to get heard or for u to express.. ehehe.. i think im more to "for u to express".. i tak nafi larr my stories r so hard to understand becoz usually its just random thoughts put into one.. thats why i can never write a novel, coz let say masa chapter 1, the character is bubbly.. tetibe when i write chapter 2 and im inna foul mood, the character suddenly turns into a bioottchh.. wahahaha! actually you never know is one of my fave stories ever, i remembered exactly the emotions i had when writing you never know, i remember i had 3 different emotions.. and i channeled each emotion into each story.. but all stories may connect to one word... thats "freedom..." hmm uculer, i think ive bit someone's lip before till it bleeds - maybe i wrote that based on (s)experience..wahaaha!
  • 4) bitterpill: dun get me wrong dear, i don't mean ur stories are not good. just that i need to think deeply which is pretty good. sometimes we need to think deeply. that is all

  • (Author)
    5) eh no no, thats not what i meant by my reply, uculer. i took your comment as a compliment! its very flattering as i believe my stories tak deep langsung, and wouldnt make anyone think at all.. im glad you found it that way heheehehee
  • 6) basically those 3parts arent connected, r they??been reading it 3 times oredi...heheheh
    • sha
    • 15 years ago

  • (Author)
    7) sha - those 3 parts aree not connected at all.. mann im sucha a bad writer. i like random random stuff.. wahaha! dat contributes to my relationships oso..random random..aih!!

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