Winter Writing Contest Wrap-up: Campaigning and Mudslinging

This story is not unlike the great Nordic sagas where great deeds are done, evil is banished and good triumphs at the very end. Ignoring the fact that the ending of this story is spoiled already, this story would guarantee to attract eyeballs and garner the interest of many a reader because I said so.

It takes place at a place that transcends space and at a time that transcends time. The actors in this great theatre of space and time transcend both space and time.

Dear readers, the hero of this story was noble for he was a noble gas.
His name is Xenon, one hundred and thirty one was his molecular mass.
He is noble for he is not flammable, immune to leonard267's flaming.
He is noble for he is not reactive, resistant to chemical bonding.
Now the author of this poem is fed up with rhymes.
So he is going to write in normal prose and stuff your orifices with limes.

If one were to look past the appalling threats made in the last two lines of that poem, one would indeed marvel at Xenon's qualities. He is not reactive, not flammable, utterly expensive and rare thus useless if you were to ask your chemist. Yet, there is a cloud in every silver lining. All of these qualities are psychopath bait. Already after the reader reads this line, trouble is looming in the horizon for that noblest of gases.

The evil leonard267, having learnt chemistry in high school wanted to make Xenon the very opposite of what he is: Flammable, reactive, rather obnoxious but still utterly expensive thus useless.

Who was he and what were his origins? Accounts differ wildly.

Some say that he is the 267th incarnation of some demon called Leonard. This demon plagues this earth by whining and moaning. Upon discovering that no one wanted to listen to him, he decided to put his whining and moaning into writing. He forced people to read his entries, threatening the pain of utter online harassment should they refuse. What a terrible demon!

Some say that he belongs to the Order of Leonards which was 267 strong. They, sharing the namesake of that demon, specialise in whining, moaning, harassment and lowering the quality of literature in this very plane of existence. The 267th Leonard, was aptly named leonard267 went mad one day and forced 265 Leonards to give up their names. The 266th Leonard decided to adopt a surname instead and was now known to the world as Leonard Nimoy, a mediocre B-movie actor.

Some say that his name is generated by a Neopets username generator. As to why he chose to use that username of a game that boasts 50 million accounts all of which is generated by one person as his persona is way beyond the realm of comprehension.

His plan to subvert the very nature of Xenon must be very diabolical indeed if one has to spend 3 paragraphs to describe him in contrast to a William McGonagall-esque poem and a redundant paragraph for Xenon's introduction. And diabolical indeed it was because he had to rope in another villain, equalling leonard267's capacity for evil and mischief, to see that the evil deed was done.

That villain goes by many names but the most used name of all was high_time which is obviously an abbreviation of the phrase, "high all of the time". Now, it is hard to say whether he is a frequent abuser of mind altering chemicals or whether his grasp on his mental faculties was as weak as that of leonard267. What was surer though, is his ability to blight the world with great evil by describing in graphic detail hermaphrodites and their out of place genitals and their bone-chilling romps.

Their ploy against Xenon was as such. They intend to throw Xenon into a special freezer that lowers the temperature of its contents to dozens of degrees below the melting point of ice. In that freezer, they would have to put in tremendous pressure on him and that meant forcing him to listen to their awful readings of poorly written writing contest entries whilst judging them.

What was to be gained through all that fuss? The answer lies in making Xenon a volatile liquid. As every layman knows, a volatile person is a reactive and mercurial one. This is much more fun than Xenon, the noble gas, noble but inert.

They hired some mercenaries to ambush Xenon in some tavern but they all succumbed to Xenon's powerful powers that involves flames and claws and spheres of light and other physically impossible and implausible manifestations that originate from the mind of the creators of children cartoons.

leonard267 and high_time knew that they had to act fast. Punching a very conveniently located switch that was placed the entrance of the tavern that was very conveniently not accidentally pressed by many a patron of that tavern, the tavern transformed into that terrible freezer which subjects its contents to temperatures dozens of degrees below the melting point of ice.

Xenon, knowing that he is trapped and cornered and somehow aware of the presence of leonard267 and high_time cried,

"Leonard and High,
I know my end in nigh.
I have a request
That I hope you acquiesce.
I have nothing but love and friendship for you
Why attempt to turn me into goo?"

leonard267 replied in the vein of the great Edmund Hilary who said that he climbed Mount Everest because it is there and in the vein of many an evil person who committed evil deeds because it can be done,

"Oh! I did that because it was fun!"

As the temperature fell and Xenon felt not well, leonard267 and high_time started mounting pressure on Xenon by reading aloud a certain contest entry. The nature of that reading was so terrible and vile, it can't be replicated here, all neat and well. Readers, you will have to deal with links:

https://www.fakku.net/forums/writing-and-fanfiction/winter-contest-entry-2013-an-analysis
http://vocaroo.com/i/s1zN4KoRmWzt
http://vocaroo.com/i/s1V94ijuG2AI

As soon as those terrible sounds reverberated throughout that fell enclosure, the pressure within it immense, poor old Xenon began to condense. It appeared that evil was the victor and all of us felt sicker.

Triumphant and exhilarated, high_time and leonard267 embraced each other in joy and entered the freezer to bask in their victory.

high_time roared with glee, "We have made Xenon a volatile liquid. Surely he will be easier to tease!" leonard267 cackled with delight. A reactive, feisty and frivolous Xenon was created, so they thought. He would join their ranks and cover the entire world in darkness and despair, so they thought.

But any competent student of chemistry should know that volatile liquids are liquids that evaporate easily. It is not going to be reactive or flammable. It would just return to the gaseous state it was before!

What happened in the very end of this story which is filled with awkward lines that rhymed and even more awkward transitions to lines that don't rhyme?

Xenon went back to what he was before, an inert but noblest of gases. While leonard267 and high_time perished in the extreme cold of that enclosure with burst eardrums, having succumbed to their awful readings of that lousy contest entry.

This tale is set in a world where good things are caused by welcome visitations of angels and bad things are caused by not-so-welcome visitations by demons. Should the reader want a proper description of what angels and demons are and how they look like, let him think of the almost extinct good Samaritan that he will never meet and that bloody bugger responsible for the bad things in his life that he will almost always meet. Angels are extremely hard to find or locate, while every now and then a demon gets burnt on a stake.

Their powers are incantations, singing, reading, prayer, chanting and other ear-jarring vibrations originating from the larynx. Unlike the real world though, the sounds made by these supernatural creatures were the source of their power. Good things happen when an angel talks. Bad things happen when a demon squawks.

Come to think of it, this world is no different from how our ancestors thought our world functioned. In such a world, expect technology to be backward, mortality rates to be high, superstition to be rife, plenty of incentive for procreation, huge disincentives for innovation, and other things that made living half a millennium ago a living nightmare.

Indeed, this story takes place in that liveliest of towns and a reputable centre of commerce which would be viewed today as a collection of hovels with no electricity, no sanitation and no life. The blacksmiths, the merchants, the paupers, the slave drivers, the slaves, the professional murderers (also known as mercenaries) are all happy and content making an honest living, something that the urbanite of our time and place would find rather horrifying.

However, their peace was to be disturbed and their way of life disrupted. Leonard the demon had his sights on that town. What struck dread into the hearts of these honest and down to earth bumpkins in that town was not Leonard's prowess to level cities and summon storms but his ability to strike fear and madness through his constant whining and moaning, his horrible voice and his ability to destroy and denigrate great works of culture like prose, prose and more prose.

A force of arms was no use, attempting to burn him on a stake was no use for his weapon was his voice and the written word. One glance of the words he had written, one moment of listening to his fell voice would render any living being grovelling on the ground crying with their ears and eyes bleeding crying, "Mercy! Mercy!"

So, it was no surprise that nary a soul was outdoors when the demon Leonard arrived at the townsquare. Doors were locked, windows were closed, medieval and ineffective soundproofing devices like dried droppings and bird saliva lined the buildings. Every attempt to block light into entering the retinas of those townsfolk were made.

However, Leonard the demon had a very loud voice and his ability to threaten and harass the townsfolk with it was unparalleled in that mortal plane of existence. Slowly but surely, the townsfolk came streaming into the townsquare in a trance. That was when the evil Leonard made his move.

He summoned a patch of grass and two familiars, one thin, the other fat, both very ugly. Sinister music begun to play out of thin air. It sounded like some plucked instrument, played very furiously. The music looped and looped and looped without end. Anyone who heard it suddenly realised that they were backward country bumpkins and their hearts sank. To make matters worse, the two familiars begun squawking.

What proceeded was so terrible that only a video recreating that scene could do it justice:



Everyone who heard and saw that disgusting and fell performance begun foaming in the mouth, their grasp on their faculties of reason severely compromised. No one could sit through that entire performance! Such was the power of their fell incantations!

As the music ceased and the chanting stopped, the demon conjured and unfurled a large banner, spanning several feet that contained the following lithographs:

在场观众 敬请听，
小弟感激 很感激！
既然曲子 受欢迎，
不妨再听 好好听！

Though no one knew what it meant, it made an unhappy situation even unhappier for these lithographs filled the hearts of those reading it with confusion and dread. To make matters worse, the demon started to produce vibrations from his vocal chords. A recording of that can be found by clicking this link:

http://vocaroo.com/i/s03Phg0Pt0LO

"The end is nigh! The end is nigh!"

These were the thoughts of those who managed to survive that onslaught of ear-shattering noises. Indeed, it seemed as if social order, the way of life and civilisation itself were thrown into ruin, when a towering figure stood up defiantly, hammer in hand.

Many a time good things meant the end of bad things happening. This was the call and duty of angels, to destroy utterly the evil works of troublemaking demons and dispatching them in whatever way they thought appropriate.

That towering man was no ordinary man and the hammer was no ordinary hammer. For he is an angel and he is armed with the greatest of all hammers known as the 'Banhammer'.

The Banhammer was the perfect embodiment of fear. Not the fear that Leonard struck but the fear of God. As if in challenge to the lithographs, the angel, wielder of the Banhammer, with a wave of a hand produced words that were in mid-air, shining and shimmering.

Do NOT create any threads in any other language other than English
- [Update by Gambler] In addition, please refrain from posting in languages apart from English.

This instruction can be found in the following link:
https://www.fakku.net/forums/feedback-suggestions-and-support/rules-and-faq

All of a sudden and in a flash, the angel swung the Banhammer as hard as he could in the direction of Leonard the demon. After a while, nothing but smoke and ashes remained on the spot where the demon stood. It was that his last words were, "I really regret that, I won't do it again I promise!"

There was utter jubilation! Everyone who was afflicted from the demon's evil recovered on the spot. Parties, revelry and festivals begun, lasting for seven and seven nights. The anniversary of the day where Leonard the demon fell was commemorated for ages to come.

Truly, this is a story where good triumphs and evil fails but what is the moral of the story?

Do NOT create any threads in any other language other than English
- [Update by Gambler] In addition, please refrain from posting in languages apart from English.

Japan, as any patriotic person ought to know, was mired in war between quarrelsome tribes or cliques as they like to call themselves midway in the second millennium of the Common Era. We all know that the aftermath of these wars resulted in a unified Japan ruled by Generalissimos, (known in our tongue and worldwide as Shoguns) the Generalissimos deciding to bring their wars to the rest of East Asia, the birth of a nation of war fanatics and quite a lot of bad blood.

Never mind all of that, point of the story is, young man, is that the town you are in was a centre of a major conflict between some feudal lord and some other feudal lord. One of them won, the other lost.

To bury the hatchet, the defeated offered his daughter to be wedded to the victor. All seemed well in this marriage of convenience until a snowstorm struck the convoy that was transporting the would-be bride. That woman escaped into a wood filled with allergic reaction inducing cherry blossom tree pollen.

Finger pointing and quarreling ensued. That quickly escalated to arson, murder, head-chopping and all-out war. The defeated feudal lord lost once more and his estates, his posterity and his family were wiped out because no one forgives people who loses a second time.

Strange thing though, after these events, the town hardly sees any snow. While some say it was the doing of the bride that vanished in the allergic reaction inducing wood, I say it is global warming!

These were the words of a drunk and self-proclaimed academic who called himself leonard267. Whatever he was however, he definitely wasn’t Japanese. Yara, a high school graduate who was a newcomer to that town, was a member of leonard267’s one man audience. As much as he would like to kick that drunkard’s head in, his limbs were slender, his body light, his skin looked tender and he can’t start a fight.

He wanted to know more about the history of the town, its background and origins ever since the first day he stepped there to stay with his parents after graduating from a private boarding school somewhere in the city. Unfortunately, he was duped into listening to that leonard267 character who promised him an analysis of this town’s history only to go into a stream of thought, near nonsensical and borderline xenophobic rant.

Just as Yara thought that he would be stuck listening to leonard267 whine and moan on and on, someone struck that drunk rather hard on the head, incapacitating him. Yara’s heart felt a rush of gratitude as he turned his eyes to the person who struck leonard267. She was a ravishing beauty dressed in the finest of traditional Japanese clothes, her features were well-chiselled and her personality extremely horrible. The first words she spoke to Yara, shortly before brandishing her weapon in front of him, were,

“WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?!”

Yara’s eyes quickly turned away from her and was about to walk away when that woman shrieked,

“HEY! LOOK AT ME WHEN I AM TALKING TO YOU!”

Yara obeyed that instruction only to be verbally rebuked thus,

“WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME AGAIN?!”

It was a case of getting out of the frying pan and into the fire. That woman turned out to be even more of a psychopath than leonard267. Yara started to walk away briskly but not before he heard those words from that crazy woman,

“It is not as if I want you to look at me…”

In normal circumstances, Yara would have fallen head over heels over her voice that might have felt like music to his ears but after having to deal with a drunk and her, it made him start to break into a run. No matter how fast he ran though, she had some way of catching up with him.

There was no shaking off her, there was no escape and there can be nowhere to hide. The days that followed Yara’s first encounter with her were absolutely plagued by her turning up at the most awkward of locations namely the more awkward locations in his house like toilets and the place where one’s pornography collection is stored. Many times he considered calling his parents, calling the police or calling whatever was the Aunt Agony equivalent of Japan. However, Yara never close got to doing that.

Was it because he would be laughed at if he were to make it known that he was stalked by a woman around his age (and a good looking one as well)? Was it because Yara was a masochist? Was it because of some supernatural power that made him change his mind? One can’t tell.

What was peculiar about that woman was, whenever Yara was in the company of others she would disappear. Yara did consider sleeping with his parents or mingling more with the townsfolk, yet for some reason he never got round doing that.

What Yara suffered from that young woman was verbal and psychological abuse then strange attempts to make up with him. That threw the poor young man into emotional distress, delicate he was. Topics of conversation could be about he reads, (Yara read in his spare time) it could be how he sleeps, it could be how he uses the bathroom or it could be even how he breathes. She had an interesting fashion of speaking, a fashion that Yara grew to hate:

“Why are you reading like that? It is not as if I want you to read like that!”
“Why are you sleeping like that? It is not as if I want you to sleep like that!”
“Why are you s****ing like that? It is not as if I want you to s*** like that!”
“Why are you breathing like that? It is not as if I want you to breathe like that!”


Then, around a week after they first met, Yara finally got to know her name. The following was the conversation that led to Yara knowing her name. It begun with that woman shrieking,

“Why don’t you want to know my name? It is not as if I want you to know my name!”

Yara apologised profusely even though he did no wrong. After a few more moments of that woman’s shrieking, it was then followed by what Yara found a sickly sweet and soft voice,

“If you really want to know, my name is Sanae.”

Followed by a very abrupt and ear-shattering yell,

“IT IS NOT AS IF I WANT YOU TO KNOW MY NAME IS SANAE!”


Sanae knew Yara’s name after ransacking his entire collection of books and letters addressed to him. Yet, knowing each other’s names made a bad situation even worse. Sanae apparently saw it as a license to badger Yara to reveal his intimate secrets be it the more embarrassing of his life or his deepest fears.

Ironically though, it was this innocent question that made his time in that town the most miserable and it involved a seemingly innocent question that is used to start most conversations, namely the weather. When asked rather rudely what sort of weather he liked, Yara simpered,

“I like the snow; please don’t hit me!”

By then, it was one month since Yara met Sanae and it was in mid-January. All this time, the weather was cold but calm. The following day after the conversation about the snow, Yara and his parents decided to take a walk in that wood filled with allergic reaction inducing cherry blossoms, the very same wood leonard267 spoke about a month ago. Yara welcomed it as an opportunity to spend some quality time without Sanae breathing down his neck.

Everything began well. There was a gentle breeze, the sun was shining and the birds were chirping. But so was the calm before a storm. Very suddenly (relatively speaking of course), in the course of one hour, dark clouds began to gather, what seemed like a gale begun whipping through the wood, the birds were squawking and soon after, tonnes of snow fell from the heavens in the manner of a violent blizzard.

Yara and his parents had no plausible way of leaving the wood where visibility is low and temperatures are cold. They could only huddle together to keep their bodies warm and hope that the blizzard subsides as soon as possible.

However, Yara’s parents were old and their bodies cannot handle such pressure from the elements. Hours into the blizzard and into the evening, Yara’s parents could not speak, their bodies seemingly frozen on the spot. Yara was about to succumb too when he saw a figure approaching him.

It was none other than Sanae herself. She looked very different from usual. She appeared not to be made of flesh and assumed corporeal form, quite alike a spirit. The thought then occurred to Yara that Sanae might be responsible for the weather. Could it be that she was bride of leonard267’s story that perished in this very wood?


“I thought you liked the snow!” Sanae cried.

Yara could not muster the energy to speak and could only mouth,
“I will kill you…”

Sanae paid no attention to that and appeared to be weeping,
“It is not as if I want you to die!”

Yara mouthed the same words as before,
“I will kill you…”

Sanae screamed in a voice much louder than roaring wind around her.
“I loved you ever since I first set my eyes on you! Why can’t I marry the person I like? Why can’t the person I like marry me? I don’t want to be like this, a wandering spirit with no shape or form. I want to be like other girls and have fun!”

Notwithstanding the emotions Sanae felt, Yara felt sick to the gut and rather confused at his tormentor’s confession of love and her screams about marrying someone she did not like. He was not in a position to reply but if it could, the words will be,
“Can it stop snowing? I take it all back, I hate the snow. I don’t want us (my family and I) to be caught in a blizzard. We just want to be alive,”

And, if he could express his feelings to Sanae, he would have said,
"You are a horrible woman, leave me alone!"

Perhaps due to the blizzard or perhaps due to hearing the revelation of what Sanae
was, Yara blacked out only to find himself in a hospital when he came to.

A rescue team found Yara and his parents hours after the blizzard subsided. They were lucky though; if Yara’s neighbours hadn’t informed the authorities that they went on a trek in the woods, the entire family would have perished in that blizzard.

What about Sanae? She was the spoilt daughter of the defeated feudal lord. The latter was only too happy to marry her off to his foes. However, she disobeyed her father’s wishes to be married off and escaped to that wood of cherry blossoms. The spirits of the wood, being stick in the mud conservatives, cursed her for her act of disobedience and turned her into one of their kind. She had no shape or form assumed powers, one of which is control over the weather near that wood. Maybe through strength of will, she manifested herself before Yara, eager to relive her days as the daughter of a (somewhat) powerful family. That was the conclusion Yara came to after reading through the myths of that town without leonard267’s help of course.

Yara never saw Sanae again and he was rather relieved that it was so.

Moral of the story Author’s note of the story:

When one's time is up and he, when he departs from the mortal plane, one leaves behind a lump of cells that would foul the air if not properly disposed. One would expect a Any sane man would dump that person's body into a pit just like what our ancestors would do to their excreta in the days without proper sanitation.

However, if one develops what one calls feelings, emotions or attachment to a person who has recently kicked the bucket so symptomatic between people of blood relations, chances are they will spend a bomb on needlessly extravagant ceremonies, the best crafted of useless coffins and so on. One wonders if they regret the treasure they have spent once they lower that decomposing corpse into a pit or see it incinerated.

This story though centres on one scene of that orchestrated madness called a funeral, namely the part when persons supposedly close to the person to the coffin create long and near inaudible vibrations from the larynx called long and boring speeches in layman language. This story centres around two characters. Let us call them HumbugsAssociate and leonard267 for laughs.

It was not clear why HumbugsAssociate and leonard267 were at the funeral, neither was it clear how they were related to the person in the coffin. What was certain though was that they were onlookers. They were interested in dead people, preferably those who succumbed to the ravages of time and ceremonies ranging from the conventional like conventional funerals to the unconventional like unconventional funerals.

At first, the speeches appeared to be a novelty, especially to leonard267. Perhaps it was a competition to see who could jerk the most tears out of the tear ducts of the audience. Perhaps it was a competition to see who knew the dead man the best. Perhaps it was a competition for competition’s sake. As far as both men can see however, if there were really a competition, all of the speeches would tie for last place in whatever category they are competing for, save the most boring.

So boring and repetitive the speeches were, HumbugsAssociate made a checklist to entertain himself:

1, Must contain references to person in coffin.
2. Must contain more references to self.
3. Must contain as little complimentary references to persons other than the person in the coffin and self.
4. Must contain as many derogatory references to persons other than the person in the coffin and self.
5. Must contain euphemisms so that 1 to 4 won’t be made obvious
6. Must be delivered in the most monotone and boring voice so that the audience wouldn’t care about 1-5

Leonard267 on the other hand began a slow descent into madness with each passing second. He flipped through the dictionary which was meant to be passed off as Holy Scripture. While the religious generally agree that the Scriptures contain prophecies and premonitions about the eschatological future where the entire world will be plunged into disasters ranging from global warming to more global warming, leonard267 was having his own premonitions.

It could be the (black) magic of the ceremony. It could be the cold weather. It could be that leonard267 was high on mind altering substances. It could even be the spirit of the man in the coffin. Whatever the reason was, leonard267 was hallucinating. As he flipped furiously through the dictionary to find the entry for the word †˜cold’, he thought that he is in a writing competition of sorts. To make it even more queer, he thought that the competition was judged by a gas (a noble one, one must add), a late former US President and a sentient city of Biblical myth that could talk and had less than soundproof walls. To make it even more confusing for the reader, he also decided rather suddenly that the dictionary entry he set his eyes on was indicative of the future.

Barring the fact that his thoughts turned to him possibly becoming a female Prime Minster despite the fact that he is male, (his crazed thoughts are laid out in detail in this link: https://www.fakku.net/forums/writing-and-fanfiction/winter-contest-entry-2013-an-analysis) he suddenly hollered,

“LOOK AT THE COFFIN!”

True enough, the coffin appeared to be shaking. Whilst everyone attending that funeral was taken aback, HumbugsAssociate strode forward and opened the coffin after exerting quite a lot of effort to do so. It turned out that in the coffin were an ancient couple who were undressed and what were they doing in there was described by leonard267 as thus:

Despite their bodies having lost their freshness and vividness so to speak, they decided to engage in that intimate moment which ought to be shared between happy, married couples. In a coffin no less!

To the onlooker, their romp would be far off the mark so to speak. It would be marked by poor or unlucky performance so to speak, due to the loss of their rigour of youth over the years. Had they been doing it with someone else, he or she or not-quite-he-or-she or it would lament that they were not not prepared or suitably warmed up so to speak.

They were nonetheless happy, even though they risk sending themselves to the gates of Hades by doing it at such an advanced age.

One member of the audience, supposedly the wife of the supposedly dead man in the coffin shrieked,

"Stop ****ing him in the coffin you wench! We all know you slept with him now!"

The woman who was doing it with him was some mistress. Who knew that man in the coffin had tastes for old women?

It turns out that someone did a lousy autopsy and ought to be in the coffin instead. So traumatised by the chain of events and even more disgusted with leonard267, who was foaming in the mouth by then, that HumbugsAssociate decided not to speak with anyone in that audience again.

Moral of the story:

DO A PROPER AUTOPSY, DAMMIT! THAT WAS BLOODY AWFUL; SEEING THEM DO THAT IS BLOODY AWFUL! MY EYES!

Norwegian Wood was set in the 1960s, a bizarre era where (almost) everyone took leave of their senses and decided to complete the ruin and devastation the Second War wrought by bringing about social and cultural ruin. Established traditions and views on fidelity and modesty were driven to the ground to be spat on. Nearly all of my short life I came to wrongly associate these so-called value systems that replaced these time-honoured traditions as "Western values". I know better now.

It did not affect my part of the world but it sure did affect the West and that Asian anomaly of a country that thinks it is part of the West called Japan. Personally, I feel sorry for their descendants who had to suffer the consequences of the excesses of the sixties. Call this expression of disgust a pointless digression if one wills. However, this airing of opinions serves as explanation of my biases towards Norwegian Wood and the background of this story. Now, allow me to complain about it:

The title is of course derived from that song from that band from that era. The protagonist Tarou Watanabe Toru (Surnames come before the name in this part of the world. I personally don't endorse the silly drive to adopt Western naming conventions that followed the Meiji Restoration.) begins recounting his wasted life as a wasted wastrel in what can be called a wasteland of a country called Japan in the late 1960s that then specialises in the manufacture of less than quality products and cars that break down before one can finish singing, "So I lit a fire. Isn't it good that I burnt down some Norwegian wood?"

What followed was a (morose and dare I say whiny?) recollection of a series of ghastly activities like engaging in copulation at an age when I was doing things more worthy of pursuit, like receiving a proper education and deciding that that age is a good age to kick the bucket as a nod to more primitive times a hundred thousand years ago when the lifespan of a human being was no more than twenty years. That I feel serves as the best summary of the entire book.

Yet, what is a book review without going in to what actually happened other than the rather vague assertion that the entire book is about inserting one's appendage into any orifice imaginable and killing oneself after that is done? Here are a few examples that I will try to list in a chronological fashion:


1a) Story begins with Tarou Toru and two very close friends, Kizuki whose genitals hang out of the body and Naoko whose genitals do not.

1b) Tarou Toru wants to mate with Naoko. Naoko wants to mate with Kizuki.

1c) Kizuki killed himself. Naoko also wants to kill herself after learning that Kizuki killed himself. For your information, Naoko's sister killed as herself as well.

1d) Tarou Toru had a girlfriend during that time. He fooled around with her then dumped her after Kizuki killed himself. The reason for doing so? He is an emotional wreck with no sense of fidelity of responsibility and so can't give a good reason why he wanted to break up with her. He enjoyed his solitude more. He preferred to be single.



2a) Fast forward to college where both Tarou Toru and Naoko, who on reflection ought to have killed themselves by now, were taking drama and literature.

2b) Turns out Naoko wanted to kill herself after all (after doing it with Tarou Toru) so she sent herself to an asylum a sanatorium which was run by a MILF the Moro Islamic Liberation Front an attractive and mature lady called Reiko. More on her later.

2c) Made friends with prone-to-catching-sexually-transmitted-diseases philanderer Nagasawa. He had a girlfriend called Hatsumi who must be suffering the psychological equivalent of a Battered Woman Syndrome. Tarou Toru and Nagasawa had the disturbing habit of picking up women together and doing it so frequently that one wonders if their manhoods have not dropped off in the process.

2d) Shared a room with possibly the only person that I liked in the story called the Stormtrooper. Obsessed about cleanliness, has a Golden Gate Bridge fetish (a fetish that I can fully sympathise with being in construction), styles his hair properly and looks as if he ought to be staying home with his parents, he is refreshing break from the depressing ruminations of sex and suicide.

2e) Acquainted (then fell in love) with what would become a loud, obnoxious and annoying love toy of a humanoid called Midori. If she were one of those Japanese silicon robots with artificial intelligence that are obviously the love toys of the future, I would gladly buy it as a punching bag. The euphemistic terms used to describe people like her could range from ebullient to jocular to easy going. I prefer to use more direct words like ill-bred and promiscuous.



3a) Climax of the story involves everyone disappearing or killing themselves and more attempts at procreation! Hooray!

3b) Naoko killed herself over God knows what. That male slut Nasagawa's girlfriend, Hatsumi, killed herself over God knows what. The Stormtrooper disappeared without a trace but going by the patterns and trends established by what is written so far it is plausible to say that he also killed himself over God knows what. And I wish Midori can kill herself over God knows what. That didn't happen though.

3c) More sticking of Tarou Toru's appendages to the least expected of orifices! Sad and traumatised that your emotional wreck of your childhood friend committed suicide? Go on a pilgrimage with no destination for a few months then **** your new girlfriend and **** the a MILF the Moro Islamic Liberation Front an attractive and mature lady called Reiko who took care of your recently deceased childhood friend!

3d) What happened towards the end of the story could one of the most self-incriminating and infuriating monologues I have ever heard. Apparently Tarou Toru is regretting sleeping around. Of course, he is not as mopey and suicidal as Naoko so he goes about fooling about with Reiko anyway. Speaking of Reiko...

3e) Reiko has a nut loose in her skull like Naoko it seems. She claims that she is sexually assaulted by a thirteen year old female adolescent. To that my response is sceptical and raucous laughter best written in capitalised and bold fonts:
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

3f) It looks as if Tarou Toru ended up with Midori in the end. The end of story however was an abrupt and inconclusive question, namely, "Where are you?" How on earth does this connect to that scene at the very beginning of the story where the author is on a plane to West Germany? I can answer that inconclusive question though. It feels as if I am no longer on the mortal plane, having been transported to the netherworld filled with nether regions.


The elephant in the room I feel as I conclude my review of Norwegian Wood is, why is it named thus?

I don't think there were many forests mentioned in the novel, less so Norwegian ones.

I don't recall the story mentioning blocks of wood (which was what the original song meant by wood) in that story though I am convinced that most of the cast in that story are blockheads and deserved to be clubbed by blocks of wood.

One may point to the fact that that emotional wreck Naoko was sensitive to that song and entertained suicidal thoughts upon hearing it. Let me reproduce the song for you:

I once had a girl, or should I say, she once had me...
She showed me her room, isn't it good, Norwegian wood?

She asked me to stay and she told me to sit anywhere,
So I looked around and I noticed there wasn't a chair.

I sat on a rug, biding my time, drinking her wine
We talked until two and then she said, "It's time for bed"

She told me she worked in the morning and started to laugh.
I told her I didn't and crawled off to sleep in the bath

And when I awoke, I was alone, this bird had flown
So I lit a fire, isn't it good, Norwegian wood.

It is painfully obvious that this song is about a one-night stand. The fact that Naoko feels suicidal about it is a very compelling reason why she should remain in that asylum sanatorium!

However, I am of the opinion that wood in the context of this story ought to the sexual innuendo for some part of the male's body. I am not sure about the constitution or the virility of Norwegian males though but I am sure it should be quite impressive given the number of times our dear hero Tarou Toru fooled around, behaving irresponsibly and hedonistically with no thought about the consequences.

Coupled that with the fascination of suicide and I find myself asking this question to the protagonist of this story and all those who engaged in that disgusting act of killing themselves: How can you justify whatever you have done with vague, unclear and poorly communicated thoughts about your feelings? I say it is much honest to admit that you have poor judgement, poor emotional resilience, you are enslaved to your carnal desires and could do with proper help.

My parents who are of their generation would have never dared to do what these bunch of clowns portrayed in that novel had done and would have despised those who did so. I believe, in a very self-righteous and arrogant fashion, that I, who was born towards the end of the 20th century, never had those 'angsty' and emotionally unsure moments experienced by Tarou Toru and company.

Oh yes, I should sign off with a moral of the story, shouldn't I:

Whoever was it that presupposes that Christmas or the New Year is that magical season when all of a sudden you find the love of life, everything would be alright, the sun would shine and there would be world peace? Come to think of it, disasters happen at that time of that year when revellers make an utter mess, stampedes happen in overcrowded bars, fires are started due to the fireworks, people die from the sheer cold, people die from the sheer heat down under, tempests, floods and hail plague many countries around the world and the weather is still horrible where leonard267 comes from.

I am a simple man with simple tastes and simple wants. Being a young man of marriageable age, it is alright if there is no world peace, it is alright if the sun doesn't shine, it is even alright if everything is not alright but for the love of God, if I can't find the love of my life, it is not alright. I was told by some section of an online forum that I need to mingle with more people, attend more social gatherings in order to find what would hopefully be my partner till the day that I drop dead. So, I took their advice and went into a club filled with people who are more than eager to get drunk.

However, the drunk people in the bar being drunk, begun stripping my clothes off in some bizarre dance sequence that involves poles and scantily clad women who are very poor candidates for lifelong partners. I extricated myself from the bar by the skin of my teeth only to find myself clad in nothing but my undergarments outdoors at the start of a hypothermia inducing winter season. Dismayed at my failure to lay my hands on a woman, I begun feeling glum, grumpy, frustrated, angry and every other synonym available that describes such unpleasant feelings. With a heavy heart, I begun making my journey back home step by step in that bitter winter cold.

It was then I felt as if I encountered three visitations by the ghouls ghosts of Christmas, except that it was I, not them who did the visiting. Before I go into detail, allow me to say that the appear to be the embodiment of that Christmas / New Year myth where everything is alright, the sun is shining, there is world peace and worst best of all, they have found the love of their lives. Also, might I add, they are not stripped down to their undergarments meaning that they are quite comfortable and meaning that I have to suppress the urge to wallop them. It was rather obvious that these feelings of unhappiness have mutated into a desire for war on Earth and ill will to all mankind.

The first visitation was that of a poor couple. The following was their dialogue:
"Do you remember what happened last Christmas, Wil?"
“Of course, Claire, how could I forget? It’s the same day I picked you up. That day, right when I felt life had no real meaning left…I found you. And you’re the reason I live for now, Claire…”
Putting aside the squeamishness of it all, I did realise that the couple were living on a shoestring. My thoughts turned to whether they were given a fuel allowance to tide the cold of the winter. My thoughts also turned to whether their homes have central heating in the first place. All of these pronouncements of their undying love appear to crumble away if they don't move to warmer climes or get rich enough so that won't die due to winter cold. Do ignore the irony of a man clad in nothing but his underpants wondering if the couple would die of the cold. Also, do ignore the fact that that couple failed to notice a man walking past them nearly naked.


The second visitation was disturbing. What appeared to be a humanoid with feline features on her ears and tail is behaving rather promiscuously. Her partner, a very young boy, on the other hand appeared to be enjoying himself. I swear that the moment I turn my back they will breeding like stray cats which will ultimately be sent to the pound, sterilised and slaughtered. Have the young have no sense of decency, no sense of shame and no sense of common sense?! I thought they are young and have less means of supporting themselves than the paupers I had encountered before. I thought intimacy between loving couples is so sacred that it ought not to be cheapened by gross public displays! I thought that if they were to do it in temperatures lower than the freezing point of ice, their genitals would drop off! I will assume that the very young woman is wearing a costume. Notwithstanding the fact that I dressed in nothing but my boxers,




As if things could not get worse, calling the third visitation disturbing is a gross understatement. I chanced upon a man, seated on bench. On his crotch laid a dog. Seeing the poor in love engenders feelings of jealousy. Seeing the young behaving promiscuously engenders feelings of disgust. Seeing an attempt at bestiality would leave one's mental faculties unable to process those feelings at all. I did the only proper thing which was to lunge at man-dog lovers, with only my boxers on, my male mammary glands bouncing up and down and my pubic hair for all to see. I could have properly manhandled the two creatures for attempting bestiality if I did not black out all of a sudden due to the sheer cold.


It was then I found myself in a space beyond space and a time beyond time. I do not know if I have left the mortal realm. I do know however that I have the means to communicate all of this to anyone who is willing to read through these walls of text. Who says that one can't have a dreadful end to the year?

Yet, more importantly, what is the moral of the story?



Addendum -- How to Write Like Leonard267

1. Be utterly verbose. Use overly long sentences that string together many ideas at once. Never mind that the end product is difficult to read. Eg: However, the drunk people in the bar being drunk, begun stripping my clothes off in some bizarre dance sequence that involves poles and scantily clad women who are very poor candidates for lifelong partners.

2. Contain references that only you can understand. Eg: It was rather obvious that these feelings of unhappiness have mutated into a desire for war on Earth and ill will to all mankind.

3. Repetition. Eg: My thoughts turned to whether they were given a fuel allowance to tide the cold of the winter. My thoughts also turned to whether their homes have central heating in the first place.

4. Colourful and bright fonts. Eg: DON'T THINK THAT THE YEAR END FESTIVITIES ARE ALL THAT GOOD.

5. Random tone shifts that confuse the poor reader. Eg: They were nonetheless happy, even though they risk sending themselves to the gates of Hades by doing it at such an advanced age. Yet, more importantly, I am not happy.

6. Crazed rambling made possible through feelings of anger and frustration that makes one prone to complaining. Eg: PRETTY MUCH WHATEVER I WRITE!

Parody of Cold Winter by Aza

I was playing a Visual Novel.

The bad ending goes like this:

I was playing the MC. My girlfriend gives me NTR - she was going along with my best friend - not my boyfriend.

I was upset.

So I eventually prayed to God. He gave me icicle falls to my head.

I died just like that.

So I went to heaven once again, playing the Visual Novel of me getting NTR'd again, this time by my boyfriend acting as my girlfriend, and my girlfriend, she acts as my boyfriend.

The real me still being in real life, playing a Visual Novel of me being in heaven, playing Visual Novels of me eventually playing Visual Novels and...

Due to the confusion, I apparently closed the Visual Novel. I'd prefer reading Vanilla doujins instead.

As I kept on reading the vanilla doujins, I realized that I was in heaven.

With that heavenly feel intoxicating my senses, it eventually tricked me to play the Visual Novels of me getting NTR'd again.

The cycle repeats.

The End.

I am known in this corner of cyberspace as leonard267. I am young, impressionable, optimistic, full of youthful vigour and I am lying. I suppose any observer if polite, slimy and dishonest would say that I prefer a sedentary lifestyle, if objective (and rude) would say that I am a complete recluse who knows no other companion other than that near sentient monster created in the Computer Age known as a computer.

With the year end / early year monsoons wreaking havoc from where I come from, I tend to be stuck indoors to shield myself from the nasty elements of wind, rain and humidity. This means more opportunities to be further insulated from the real world than I am already am! It is in times like these, my mind begins to wander perhaps due to the claustrophobia caused by the four walls of my abode. That made me rather reflective on the not so close relationships I have had with some people, namely some woman, some old woman and some other man. If I had more semblance of a soul, I'd call them a female acquaintance of mine, my grandmother and my uncle. Since I am bored and I would like to bore you, the reader, let me go through my lack of a relationship with the three of them shall we?

Let me begin by talking about some woman also known as a female acquaintance of mine. We shared little to no similarities other than the fact that we reside in a structure that is best described as blocks of pre-fabricated concrete stacked on top of each other like toy bricks also known as a block, of flats. We are expected to live the entirety of our lives in these things. I am expected to build more of these things in the future to serve as enclosures for virtually every living anthropoid as a worker in the construction industry! It is difficult to engage in normal human interaction so I found myself only liking her only because she is a member of the opposite sex instead of the more proper things that would make a relationship work like liking her for reasons other than because she is a member of the opposite sex.

We were aware of each other's existence. She took an interest in me most likely because I looked like an alien to her, metaphorically because leonard267 behaves as if he is an extraterrestrial being with no idea on how the world works, literally because when one's mental age is one digit long, one treats the opposite sex as if they are alien spawn. This will obviously disappoint the lecherous reader who has the unreasonable expectation of sexual tension between two adolescents but I took no action. Why the need to get to know her better if I am already comfortable with myself, my computer and my flat? When her parents decided to cash their flat to buy more valuable property to live in, (valuable property meaning yet another one of those bloody flats) she had to move with them. I did get the address and the phone number of their new abode which I lost barely a week later. Was she of any significance? Was the time spent thinking about this well spent? So pointless it was to ponder over these questions, I decided that I should spend time recollecting my relationship with someone supposedly closer.

My mother's mother looked every bit a man with her square face, short hair and deep voice. At least this was how I remembered her when I was an adolescent. However, just like the woman I spoke of just now, I failed to get close with her. Perhaps it was the lack of fascination with the elderly which took some time for me to develop by reading through events that have no relevance whatsoever to the present, also known as the past and buying into the myth that the past offers insight into the present and future. Perhaps it was the language barrier. She spoke a Chinese dialect that sounded like Indo-Chinese which I was taught to detest and with very good reason for that dialect was spoken widely amongst the uneducated and the uncouth; not to mention the schisms caused within the community due to their inability to adopt a common language. Those dialects were a very strong impediment to achieving that commonality of language so needed for a cohesive community.

She had lived through the Second World War, raised a family of nearly ten in the tough and austere times of the not-so-swinging Sixties in my part of the world, her children grew up and what was her reward? Burst blood vessels in her brain due to a fall in the toilet that rendered her an invalid when she was in her seventies. Poor woman had to spend the rest of life on a bed with tubes stuck into her nose whilst her large figure shrivelled into skin and bones. To further the rift between me and her, I went through puberty. This meant that I changed physically. I believe she remembered me a poorly behaved and spoilt runt but not a poorly behaved and spoilt bigger-sized runt. So, whenever I approached her, she could not recognise me. This went on until she kicked the bucket. One feels a sense of loss but it is far from devastating. I thought I can wallow in unpleasant feelings of devastation by thinking about the deaths that are much worse than old people dying or to be more specific thinking about dead young people.

The person in question was my mother's elder brother who is young being slightly over half a century old when he kicked the bucket. Like the young woman who did not die, we were aware of each other's existence. I had to put up with the occasional teasing from him because I looked a miniature version of a human being which was really funny in hindsight the older and more human being-ish I got. Alas, I was not close to him either. I point the finger of blame at the thirty kilometre distance between our homes and the pointlessness of visiting each other when we have more important things on our agenda like going to work.

I admire hardworking and simple men and women so embodied by my mother's elder brother. He was one of the very important frontline workers who make logistics work by transporting goods using large and hard to control automobiles powered by manual transmission also known as a truck. While it is hyperbole to say that operating a manual vehicle is heart-attacking inducing, I am afraid that was what happened to my dear mother's elder brother. There was great sense of loss only the regret that he could not live 50 years longer. From his passing, I have learnt to be very careful when handling those dangerous trucks, I have grasped the importance of taking medication if I am diagnosed with clogged arteries and I was given a painful reminder of how terrifying it is that heart failure appears to be a hereditary disease running in my mother's family.

Speaking about the lack of loss I feel about these three persons whom I ought to be close to might be indicative of my lack of humanity or my unlikely mastery of the ability to be stoic. This leads me to these questions to ascertain how I feel about these persons:

Do I harbour the desire to turn the clock back? In a way yes, but only because time travel is 'cool'.

Do I harbour the desire to turn myself in a spirit so that I could meet those people I am no longer in contact with? No, what for? I am quite happy to assume the form of flesh and blood.

Do I harbour the desire to use my experiences as an argument for anamnesis or the presence of spirits? This sounds like a leap of logic reminiscent of leonard267's monologues, especially when anamnesis is a poor explanation for why moral and social norms are similar across cultures. Of course not!

So what is the moral of the story then?

It was that strange and bizarre and night that led me, leonard267, into this psychiatric ward to treat what was supposedly my hallucination-churning brain. While my acquaintances are quite convinced that I have a screw loose in my head to begin with, I am convinced that the events related to whoever that reads this actually happened:

Frigid blasts of air originating in the Arctic caused temperatures to plummet at that time. Yet, either due to the geography of the region or human activity, there were always the presence of heat islands. The island that I went to that fateful night was one of those heat islands, no pun intended. It was situated off quite a distance off the coast of the city where I lived.

While everyone is masochistic enough to engage in pointless winter celebrations outdoors, I wanted a peace of mind and an escape from the cold. So, I started my boat and was about to set off for that island only to find a very beautiful looking anthropoid ape, also known as a genderly ambiguous human being, asking me for a lift on my boat.

I compiled, because I am an aged, not-so-eligible bachelor looking for young women. Never mind that that island is uninhabited, never mind that it is generally a bad idea to give lifts to strangers bound for strange locations, I wanted to kickstart my love life! However, I was fooled by my passenger's slender limbs, light body and long hair. As we spoke, I realised that she was a he! After this shocking revelation, I found myself wishing to huddle myself in a corner. It is quite alike to having a close shave with death, except for my case it was a close shave with sodomy.

I did ask him what was his purpose for going to an uninhabited island, to which he replied that he is meeting his wife. That was rather strange, I thought. He looks barely legal! I felt like asking more questions like how old he was and why was his wife was on an uninhabited island only to feel a cold sensation coursing throughout me. Perhaps it was because I was finding that young man rather creepy.

Bizarre as things were, it was only when I reached the island when things went out of control. There was an ancient lady who looked like a male waiting for our arrival and she was dressed in bright colours so inappropriate for her age. My male companion spoke softly to me, gesturing to her, "She is my wife and I have a score to settle with her." It was at that moment I lamented silently of the moral and social decay of our society as I pictured a boy a little more than 10 years old married to someone 10 times older than him.

I was then entertained to a very strange pyrotechnic spectacle cum water fountain show. I swore that fire, water and ice materialised out of thin air as the young boy and old lady gesticulated wildly whilst yelling about global warming. Come to think of it, it felt like watching one of those ubiquitous and lousy current affairs show. I thought of leaving the island by boat to get as far away from them as possible when I blacked out all of a sudden. I was told that was due to an explosion on the island. Who knew that a fireworks display could be that dangerous?

When I came to, I was arrested for arson and wanton destruction of public property on an inhabited island miles away from a coastal city. I defended myself by telling them what I thought happened on the island only to find myself transferred to this psychiatric ward!

I don't know what happened to that young boy and that old lady. Urban legends has it that they are spirits of the city but really I rather believe that they are strange people so representative of the dysfunctional families we see today.

So, what is the moral of this story?

I have come towards a city to seek the grave of my loved one. How her loss deeply saddens me. She was, my joy, my love, my true genuine, love. She was my love, my everything, love, my love, and my love. Why must I repeat the word 'love' so many times? Simple enough - it shows how much I loved her, that's all.

The city was broken down due to the post-apocalyptic thing, just without the zombies in order to make it even more cliched. The remainder of the story will be spent on my melancholic monologue, because I don't like describing the ugliness in my heart. only true beauty, lies in melancholy, with verbosely written poetic sense that makes no sense at all.

Behold - lo to the orient where the cowbells sing - and hence the cross might fall upwards and the tentacles brim - so the birds flutter and the drawbridges flown - at the Daybreaks' Disaster the minstrels sung! I have come, to attend the grave of my loved one - how shall I endure her loss? The magnificence of poetry so the poignant musings of prose could not compare to the weight of my sadness! I am lost, I am truly lost - indeed.



When I finally came to her grave, I totally forgotten what I should be doing. Everything was lost in my singing, poetry, and compilation of short prose. For the long ones, just remember to buy my book at amazon.com.

This is the end of my most emotional commercial ever.

It is work of art produced by one of the self-proclaimed finest minds on this site, encyclopedic his knowledge in making people blanch with his writing. He has a vision for the standards of writing on this pornographic website and the effort he put into lowering the standards of writing in this esteemed section is immeasurable.

No other work equals that of leonard267's in megalomaniacal and narcissistic tendencies, the inability to present plot and detail in a logical fashion, the astounding capacity to churn out the nonsensical and the absurd, the stridency displayed in making mountains out of molehills and splitting hairs and the divide in opinion amongst those who with a sense of humour and those who don't.

We have the messiah incarnate in our midst! Shouldn't we as mere mortals do our very best to ensure that his work and legacy endure the ravages of time? Here is a list of pointers inspired from analyses of His great work on how to write like Him:

How to Write Like Leonard267

1. Be utterly verbose. Use overly long sentences that string together many ideas at once. Never mind that the end product is difficult to read. Eg: However, the drunk people in the bar being drunk, begun stripping my clothes off in some bizarre dance sequence that involves poles and scantily clad women who are very poor candidates for lifelong partners.

2. Lots of explanations and justifications. However, they must not adhere to logic. Eg: Margaret Thatcher and I may not be human... Yet, just as I was entertaining the possibility that I would become a female Prime Minister, get backstabbed... (How does sharing a similarity with a female Prime Minister result in me becoming one?)

3. Contain references that only you can understand. Eg: It was rather obvious that these feelings of unhappiness have mutated into a desire for war on Earth and ill will to all mankind.

4. Referencing obscure references through the use of links. Eg: I was told by some section of an online forum that I need to mingle with more people.

5. Repetition. Eg: My thoughts turned to whether they were given a fuel allowance to tide the cold of the winter. My thoughts also turned to whether their homes have central heating in the first place.

6. Colourful and bright fonts. Eg: DON'T THINK THAT THE YEAR END FESTIVITIES ARE ALL THAT GOOD.

7. Random tone shifts that confuse the poor reader. Eg: They were nonetheless happy, even though they risk sending themselves to the gates of Hades by doing it at such an advanced age. Yet, more importantly, I am not happy.

8. Be annoyingly self aware.
Eg: Here are some responses to the people who read what I have written:

Some Person wrote...

And again, as usual with your works, I found it to be whiny.

Some Other Person wrote...

You sound whiny.

Here is what I have written: Those people who had to suffer what I had written about the summer, which was described as a meandering and whiny weblog entry by someone who had the misfortune to go through it.

9. Tease the reader with some semblance of logic, tease the reader with some expectations only to write something utterly ludicrous as a punchline.
Eg: I am known in this corner of cyberspace as leonard267. I am young, impressionable, optimistic, full of youthful vigour and I am lying.

10. Crazed rambling made possible through feelings of anger and frustration that makes one prone to complaining. Eg: PRETTY MUCH WHATEVER I WRITE!

The Ruined City, so called by many a person, stretched ever more across the horizon as David, a scion of a powerful line of politicians, establishment figures and warlords, was brought nearer to that city by an extremely noisy military transport accompanied with his soldier comrades.

David's destination was long ago a gleaming metropolis and a great centre of trade and commerce that was regrettably brought to its knees by being one of the first victims of a long, bloody and devastating civil war. That city fell into the clutches of many a warlord who lost hold as soon as they gained control with another round of plunder, pillage and rape for each change of hands. After many self-styled conquerors foisted their names onto that city in a display of disgusting egocentricity, the city was given that awful moniker, The Ruined City, by the man on the street to avoid confusion among her many names and perhaps to dissociate it from what it once was.

By the time the city fell under the control of David's family, the Ruined City was no more than a collection of ugly monoliths made of bones of steel, bodies of concrete and skins of glass. It must have struck those who took as much as a glance at the city to realise the destruction that terrible war wrought on life, property and much more. Indeed, it made those whose hearts were not hardened by the war feel as if their victory was a Pyrrhic and a hollow one.

Even David, who was no stranger to war felt his spirits slowly sink as he got nearer to the city with each passing second. He would rather be placed on missions that would bring him his family closer to wresting control over the whole country never mind that the civil war is drawing to a close in his family's favour. Under normal circumstances, he would have resisted taking part in what he unfairly thought as an empty charade of boosting morale and placating a handful of civilians in the Ruined City. As it was, David's reasons for heading to the Ruined City were much closer to the heart.

He was looking for an Elizabeth, a woman whom he held at very high esteem. Be it may that she was an unsightly woman with her freckled, dark beige complexion, her thick and closely knitted eyebrows crowning her eyes, her stubby and flat nose and her short, sturdy almost masculine figure, David found her a charismatic, resilient and above all a competent soldier, a person as worthy as the best officers his family sent to the pride, pomp and circumstance of that war.

Their first encounter with each other was barely romantic. Indeed, neither of them would ever admit to having anything resembling a romantic relationship with each other. There were no pleasant sights, no pleasant smells and the atmosphere was far from pleasant when they first met in the gruesome military training grounds ran by David's family. David, that modern aristocratic officer was teamed with the far from modern and not-so-aristocratic Elizabeth. There were very noticeable differences between them, be it of class, personality, outlook in life and so on.

David believed that Elizabeth, like so many of his comrades at arms, was from a family of peasants who lived from hand to mouth, doomed to be farmers, labourers or soldiers. David could only guess that her personality and her astounding ability at rabble rousing and leadership must be honed at the fields. Many a time, he imagined Elizabeth leading a few others, perhaps younger relatives, to till the fields. She looked every inch a person who toiled under the sun and she had a deep knowledge of plants and insects, all characteristic of a farmer. David observed that she knew little beyond agricultural techniques, weapon use and assembly and the art of persuasion but demonstrated remarkable physical and mental resilience. These too must be a result of the hard work she had to go through as a farmer and the social stigma she bore due to her lowly status.

Whether Elizabeth could tell what kind of upbringing he had had as a member of what would be the most powerful family that ruled the country, David did not know for sure. However, Elizabeth displayed surprising sensitivity that was quite uncharacteristic of her at the very occasional mention of his years as a child. The annals of history portray princelings like David either as being pampered and spoilt or thrown in at the deep end of the pool. It was painfully apparent that David was the latter. He was brought up in a spartan lifestyle with his stern mother, one of many of his father's concubines, as his companion and was deprived of the luxuries his family could well afford. Under the guidance of his mother, he was taught to love and fear his father, an unquestioning loyalty towards his family and country was inculcated in him, he was given the best education possible, he had to manage his own affairs with little to no help and he learnt how to conceal his emotions through the coaxing, chiding and the occasional beating. He barely had any contact with his father but it was under his orders that he was inducted into his private army when he became a teenager first as a lowly recruit and who rose to the rank of a junior officer within a few short but trying years.

Their formative experiences in their youth must have shaped their personalities that were as different night and day. Elizabeth was an ebullient extrovert while David was silent and inscrutable. Elizabeth was more concerned and more comfortable with tasks at hand while David cared more and preferred setting out long term objectives. Yet, they were brought together to handle the most challenging of tasks, be it the execution of tactical manoeuvres, the transport of military supplies, the operation of heavy weapons all the while operating in the most demanding of environments. Instead of allowing their differences to become obstacles to working together, they complemented each other's strengths and made up for each other's weaknesses. It was no surprise that the company that they led together did well in many of the military operations they undertook.

As the years passed and the country slipped inexorably into chaos, David gained prominence in his family's armed forces and enjoyed a meteoric rise through the ranks. With that came a few inconveniences. There was a lot of gossip by many a green-eyed soldier that his rise could only be possible due to his family ties, a point that David himself admitted to be true. He had to handle yet more responsibilities under the backdrop of an impending war that could range from mobilising troops to the bizarre attempts at getting a man of war like himself to engage in diplomatic overtures to possible allies and potential enemies. What bothered him the most is that Elizabeth, together with a few others that worked with him, were not recognised for their contributions to his family's army despite their supposed commitment to reward its soldiers based on merit. David knew the reason to be class prejudice. Yet, being indoctrinated since young to think for his family and enterprise, he saw it as a problem that needed to be addressed.

He recommended a few reforms to his father like the way rewards were issued, punishments were awarded and for more weight to be given to recommendations and testimonies for soldiers on the ground. He recommended a few persons for promotion and a handful of sergeants to be promoted into officers, Elizabeth being one of their number. When the letters and memoranda he sent containing those recommendations went unanswered, he sent them once more with the words changed but the proposals not. By the third and failed attempt in doing so, David decided to take matters into his own hands.

What David decided to undertake was on the verge of mutinous behaviour, quite alike knighting a few officers without approval from the monarch. While he did not openly commission Elizabeth and company as officers, they were given responsibilities that only officers can assume and with a salary commensurate with those responsibilities. Most interestingly and quite unexpected of David, he chose a very peculiar but strange way to pile pressure on those who ran his family's army to give in to his demands for reform.

He hinted to his father in a letter that intended to marry Elizabeth.

When Elizabeth first heard of this proposal, she gave a hearty guffaw. Was it not ludicrous that an aristocrat would want to have a peasant not as a mistress, not as a concubine but as partner and wife? David remembered that he gave a rare and faint smile upon seeing Elizabeth's reaction. That marriage proposal was a thinly veiled threat that took advantage of his family's prejudices shaped by society and culture. Would his family's good name be put to question if that proposed marriage were to take place? His father as expected objected and offered a qui pro quo that David wanted which was a concession on military reforms and the promotion of Elizabeth and a few others as officers.

David's ruse was largely successful but he did feel a tinge of regret that his father objected to his proposal of marriage to Elizabeth. She had all the values his family valued in their wives namely tenacity, discipline, sense of responsibility, competence and above all, loyalty. David almost enjoyed work with Elizabeth covering him and pointing out things that he could have otherwise overlooked. Perhaps most of all, she was a natural host notwithstanding her less than attractive appearance and made good company.

Against the backdrop of military promotions and a failed marriage proposal, the central government finally collapsed in a violent military coup sparking a mad scramble by opportunistic warlords over large swathes of land. The implementation of the military reforms David suggested was timely in preparing troops for battle as the skirmishes became large scale sieges with many cities, the Ruined City included, falling victim.

It took an armed strike against David's family to serve as a pretext for them to take action. Finally, troops were mobilised, supply lines were established, men were armed and battle plans were drawn. Operating from their base in hilly and rather inaccessible terrain located in the far west of the country, David's family managed to sweep through neighbouring regions with relative ease. Although their triumphs in the battlefield doubtlessly serve as a powerful boost to morale, both David and Elizabeth both knew that a long and protracted war lay ahead in the plains east of the country where troop movement is less inhibited by terrain constraints and cities and other targets while easy to seize were even more easier to lose.

Their gains on the battlefield appeared to be thrown into doubt as they vied for control of the once affluent cities of the East. War comrades, some of them close to both David and Elizabeth perished while many others were maimed in ferocious battle. Yet, the fighting spirit of David's family never seemed to waver be it due to the lust of reward or fear of punishment courtesy of David's military reforms or Elizabeth's near miraculous ability to raise the spirits of many a soldier. The mutual admiration between David and Elizabeth grew ever the more stronger in the face of the ever increasing challenges of war. Every now and then, David contemplated marriage with Elizabeth should all go well. Alas, it could have come into fruition if not for the fateful siege of the Ruined City.

The Ruined City was not dissimilar to the cities east of the country being easy to seize and yet easier to lose. Unlike the other cities, it had both strategic and symbolic value that made many an army face their demise by spending too much blood and treasure maintaining their grip on the city as they became targets for bloodthirsty and envious rivals. David's family however was determined that they would keep the city firmly in its grasp. Like the many warlords before them who occupied the city then perished, David's family believed that taking over this city would pave their way for total domination of the country. Unlike their failed and vanquished rivals, David's family knew that in order to secure the Ruined City, they must bar their rivals access to the Ruined City by controlling the many roads and paths that lead to it. That meant the need to spread their forces to surround the city. In order for that strategy to be effective however, a unit had to serve to divert attention from the attempt to surround the city. That would be done by sending a unit to mount a risky and near suicidal attack the city.

The execution of this strategy became the excuse for David and Elizabeth to part ways. They would not be leading units to take down targets together, instead they would be operating separately. Both David and Elizabeth accepted and agreed with the strategy without complaint. However, there was an unexpected commotion about who would lead the troops to stage that attack on the Ruined City. It served as one of moments in David's life he would wish to forget but never would.

It started when two officers volunteered to lead the unit to stage that daring attack. Few of those who were present when the two expressed their wish to brave death attempting to take the Ruined City were unmoved for they were awed for their accomplishments in the battlefield and their unmatched courage. Yet, the two officers who volunteered themselves were both shock and dismayed that the other should want to undertake such a dangerous task. Indeed, the two officers in question were David and Elizabeth.

In a very rare outburst, David raised his voice with his cool and gravitas almost giving way. He asked why it was deemed fit for a woman and a person of such lowly status to undertake so important a task. The retort came unexpectedly from Elizabeth who then insinuated that it was brash and irresponsible to send an officer of such importance and lineage to die in a diversionary attack. With uncharacteristic sarcasm and dryness in her voice almost reminiscent of David's demeanour, she questioned David's ability to rouse his men to lay down their lives for him and his family.

Elizabeth's words removed whatever inhibition David had that kept his emotions in check. As soon as she uttered those words, David lunged at her with an animalistic yell, with no other thought in his mind except for a powerful urge to manhandle her. Before he could lay his hands on Elizabeth however, he was brutally restrained and removed from her presence. That was to be the last time David saw Elizabeth for he was punished by incarceration for behaving in such an unruly manner while the generals of David's family acceded to Elizabeth's request to stage an attack on the Ruined City.

The strategy to take down the city was successful and it gave David's family the momentum and boost in morale so needed to establish themselves as the dominant power in the land. Nonetheless, it was not without cost. David knew enough of warfare to know that Elizabeth would have little chance of coming out of this attack in one piece. As soon as he was released from his imprisonment, he was offered the mission to return to the Ruined City which he accepted. So ends the account of the events leading to David's visit to the Ruined City to find Elizabeth and begins the account of what happened thereafter.

David spent his time en route in the military transport thinking about himself, Elizabeth and the war despite the blaring noise of the engines before replaying the final unhappy moments with Elizabeth in his head again, again and again. He recalled his shock, grief and anger at Elizabeth's resolve to seek death at the Ruined City. Shocked he was as he did not expect Elizabeth to do so. Grieved he was as he did not want Elizabeth whom he so loved to do so. Angered he was as he believed Elizabeth ought not to do so.

What were the reasons behind that decision? Despite putting in much thought, he could not find the answer to that question though it did occur to him that Elizabeth must have felt the same grief and shock when he too volunteered to be cannon fodder at the Ruined City. Would Elizabeth ever know that David made that decision out of loyalty and commitment to family and enterprise? Would she know that she angered David for usurping his role as a willing martyr for his family? Would she know that by doing so she would be taking away the life of the person David loved so much? David would love to know the answers to these questions.

Silent David was as the military transport rolled into the Ruined City. If not for his companions in the transport reminding him that they have reached their destination, he could have sat there for much longer in deep thought. Their destination within the city was a clearing within the concrete forest of ruined towers with a boulevard of shrivelled and leafless trees that lead to a sanctuary that was of traditional architecture.

In that sanctuary took place sacred rituals filled with religious and cultural significance. There the inhabitants of the Ruined City once offered prayers at important festivals marking the solstices, celebrated the birthdays of very young children and coming of age ceremonies, held grand but solemn weddings and equally grand and solemn funerals. The place was filled with a great sense of foreboding as it stank of death and visible were the scars of many years of war. David's face betrayed little to no emotion though many memories, thoughts and feelings must be swirling in his mind like powerful and invisible undercurrents. For it was within that sanctuary where David would find the person he was looking for, the beloved Elizabeth.

Note by leonard267: I will stop here as I see two endings present themselves before me. If you somehow managed to read through these ghastly paragraphs (poor high_time couldn't), rest assured that I will pen these two endings. Till then swear and curse at this author for that pointless cliffhanger.

Elizabeth lives:

There were many large chambers within that sanctuary, amongst them a grim and silent room tiled with scratched marble and enclosed with grey mortar walls. That particular chamber was where the inhabitants of the Ruined City performed rituals to send off those who have departed the mortal realm. With its seats removed replaced with lines of coffins leaving behind a lonely altar, that chamber felt more like a makeshift morgue rather than a funeral parlour. In that room, David found Elizabeth.

She was not what David remembered her to be. Instead of seeing the bubbly optimism and drive that so defined her, he saw a worn out and listless woman. She looked as if she was many years older than she actually was, shrivelled and dispirited. No longer she was a soldier but a mere peasant. What a horrible difference that cruel siege on the Ruined City made! Aware of how much she had suffered, David who was then walking at a brisk and fast pace slowed down, his rigid posture changing to a gentler one. Approaching her, he called her name before placing a hand softly on her shoulder.

Unexpectedly, Elizabeth gave a squawk and struggled, with her right arm flailing while the other arm made no movement for it was a bad arm. She suddenly winced in pain then calmed down. Turning her head to see who had approached her, she sprung back, landing very awkwardly on her bottom. What followed was profuse apologising to which David responded with mirthful laughter. That must be the first time Elizabeth heard him laugh.

What was David laughing at? Was it her silly, clumsy and bumbling appearance? Was it vindictive laughter to see her like this after she slighted him before the battle? Or was it pure relief that both her body and mind have survived the battle? More likely it was all three. Elizabeth may no longer be a soldier with shrapnel still embedded in her limbs and her movement possibly impaired for the rest of her life, but Elizabeth she still was. Yet, at the same time David felt that his eyes were no longer dry. He did not weep but Elizabeth started crying and bawling loudly, unsettling many in the chamber.

Both David and Elizabeth were helped to chairs where David spent some hours listening to Elizabeth. She oddly recounted the many battles and skirmishes long ago in between sobs and the occasional blowing of her nose. The experiences they and their comrades had been through and the difficulties they had to surmount were recollected by Elizabeth in astonishing detail. When the deaths and grievous injuries sustained by many a comrade and even those of their enemies came up, she sobbed and blowed her nose harder. No longer a woman of war, she saw herself as a mourner for the terrible bloodbath that was the civil war.

Interestingly enough, she did not cover the recent and successful assault on the Ruined City, the one that landed many a fine soldier in those coffins. Perhaps it was because the assault occurred so recently, she did not want to be reminded of it. David had an impression of what Elizabeth and her unit had to go through in the Ruined City through the reports he was given. It was good fortune that the enemy was caught unprepared as Elizabeth led the assault on the Ruined City. Notwithstanding that, they encountered stiff resistance which led to Elizabeth and her men being party to a dangerous exchange of fire in what was to be days of urban warfare. Men who survived and were with Elizabeth would attest to her tremendous display of courage and fearlessness as she fought, dodged and fought in the face of enemy fire, her every action and word spurred them to fight harder until reinforcements arrived. It was as if nothing mattered but victory.

It could be said that for the bravery of Elizabeth and her men the Ruined City is taken. Some questions remained unanswered. Why did Elizabeth volunteer in what could be her last battle? Why was Elizabeth and for that matter the men who fought with her so eager to lay down their lives for his family's ambition? David never asked so he never had the answers to these questions.

He could fathom a guess that Elizabeth and indeed all of their comrades who fought with them were more than willing to lay down their lives in the hopes of laying their hands on treasure, titles and a better life. Most of the soldiers he knew lived in austere conditions before finding their fortunes in war. Elizabeth, he knew, would herself be a beneficiary for her deeds on the battlefield with her family honoured and her pockets lined with gold.

Was the lure of the betterment of her life the sole reason though? David thought not. As Elizabeth's outpourings were drawing to a close, she lamented quietly that she wished she could become David's bride, something that David's family could only accept if she were of higher status and if she had rendered outstanding service. Would David be the bridegroom of a paralysed woman? In response to Elizabeth's expressed wish to be David's bride, he patted the back of Elizabeth's palm with his. There were more urgent matters at hand that he had attend to that would be more difficult given Elizabeth's condition. One thing was for sure, he would need her help doing his duties in his brief stay at the now liberated Ruined City.

It took one to two days of celebration and visiting soldiers and civilians in the Ruined City, a few more months of overcoming whatever resistance against David's family and a bit more time persuading his family for Elizabeth to be his bride. Like their relationship before the wedding ceremony, the wedding ceremony was anything for it was solemn and sacred and attended by powerful families and figures. Indeed, it was a rather harrowing ordeal for Elizabeth's family who were not used to such pomp and circumstance. More importantly, they were now bound in matrimony and were now ever the more united to face the many challenges that will present themselves being so very near to heart of power in the country.

David and Elizabeth would find themselves hard at work placating and rebuilding the country, their efforts especially concentrated at the Ruined City. Eventually, they would be honoured with peerages and titles for their hard work and dedication and will be known to the world as Lord and Lady of the once Ruined City.

If one can be forgiven for summarising the story of David and Elizabeth as a fairy tale where the ugly peasant caught the eye of a prince and became a princess. For Elizabeth was no mere peasant, David was no mere prince and both had to cross rivers of blood and shed countless tears and sweat to earn what they have. Let it be that their story inspire generations to come.



Elizabeth dies:

She was encased in a coffin and so was hidden from David's sight. Medals and other military paraphernalia that identified her were laid upon the banners of her unit and of David's family that draped her coffin. David looked as stoic as ever, with nary an expression on his face. David knew that this would come to pass and had little doubt that Elizabeth knew that she would not return alive from that battle. For the enemy was prepared for that assault and fought with great ferocity, so high the stakes were for them. Elizabeth and her men had to match their rigorous defence with much fewer men and arms.

Miraculously, they managed to sustain the attack long enough for reinforcements to arrive despite suffering heavy casualties. When it was clear that the Ruined City was captured by David's family, only one of out of four men in Elizabeth's unit survived. What made them continue fighting despite the overwhelming opposition? For that matter, what drove them to fight the many battles in that dreaded civil war? David might have answers from those who fought with Elizabeth and survived. They told him stories of how the unit kept discipline even as their comrades fell and died gruesomely in the face of gun fire and mortar shells. They implied that the lure of fame and fortune that could better the lives of them and their families compelled them to fight. Indeed, the rewards for those who fought successful battles are lavish and even more so for those who died in battle. Elizabeth figured prominently in their accounts of the assault on the Ruined City. Her strong spirit and voice was infectious and it lit a fire in the souls of those who fought with her. Almost it seemed that she was leading her troops to work not to their deaths.

There was another question about the battle that David would like answered that being the reasons behind Elizabeth’s resolve to seek death in the Ruined City. Though he would never hear a direct answer from Elizabeth, he had a letter from her sent to him a few days after he last met her. While he was incarcerated for attempting to manhandle Elizabeth, David read that letter time and again as it might be the last letter sent from her, as it held the answers behind her actions.

The writing was not the best with many spelling and grammatical errors. The tone of the letter was vulgar and not refined alike to how Elizabeth spoke when she was alive. Yet, David would treat this letter as one of his most valuable possessions. It began with an apology for her behaviour at their very last meeting and it continued with a very accurate guess about David’s feelings namely his strong desire to serve his family and his men and equally if not more important how angry and heartbroken he felt when Elizabeth decided to lead the assault on the Ruined City in his stead. Her letter confirmed David’s belief that not unlike the many comrades at arms who braved many dangers, Elizabeth cast aside her instincts of self-preservation in exchange for wealth, titles and a better life for herself and her impoverished family. The contents of the letter that moved David the most and gave him the answers that he was looking for was found towards its end. It seemed that tears touched the paper for the ink was blotted and Elizabeth’s hand was unsteady when she wrote the last few paragraphs for the handwriting was not as firm as the previous paragraphs. Those paragraphs explained the reasons that mattered the most to her in her decision to seek death at the Ruined City. The words she used betrayed David’s expectations of her once again.

Elizabeth was motivated by love to be succinct. She was stirred by the many comrades who have fallen before her. She had a burning desire to fight for the country she so loved. She wanted to repay the debt she owed to David’s family for the treasure and honour they bequeathed on her for fighting their battles. Most of all, she risked death out of love for David and the desire to be his bride. Alas, that can only be done if she were elevated to a higher social status which can only be achieved by rendering outstanding service. Elizabeth decided that taking down the Ruined City would be the service she would render to David’s family. It would appear that David’s family agreed to this arrangement where Elizabeth would become part of them if she could successfully lead an attack on the Ruined City. The gamble Elizabeth took did not pay off and it cost Elizabeth her life.

Though at that time Elizabeth could not know the outcome of the siege of the Ruined City, she offered words of consolation in her letter. If she survived, she would become David’s bride. If she did not, Elizabeth hoped that her death would spur David to work harder to bring the war to an end and heal the wounds the civil war has inflicted on this country. She declared that if David died instead of her, she would not want to live. Yet, she knew that David would not harbour those disgusting thoughts of suicide should she die, so strong was his loyalty and sense of mission to his family. She was right. David did not harbour resentment towards his family for the deal they struck with Elizabeth. He knew that can never marry Elizabeth peasant but he can marry Elizabeth the warrior.

Yet, the full weight of Elizabeth’s final but indirect words to him was too much to bear. After reading the letter, David spent much of his time in confinement weeping silent tears, something he could not last recall doing. The spirit of self-sacrifice of Elizabeth and so many others who perished before her was powerful and overwhelming. So too was Elizabeth’s and for that matter David’s unanswered wishes to be wedded to each other. As soon as his tears are spent, his resolve to put his mind and body to work was strengthened.

Standing in front of Elizabeth’s coffin, he ordered the coffin to be opened, much to the shock of those around him. Elizabeth’s body, terribly mutilated with shrapnel with bits of her short and stocky figure missing, was wrapped in cloth. David recognised that body to be hers and bowed his head. He knelt next to coffin, closed the lid and personally placed back the banners and the military paraphernalia the decorated her coffin. That was to be his final salute to her.

After that, he found himself having a lot of work to do. He found himself begrudgingly celebrating the capture of the Ruined City only to feel disgusted afterwards when he entertained the thought that he was celebrating the deaths of many a soldier who died to capture it. He felt more at ease spending the next day or two placating those affected by the war. He felt strangely invigorated in the following months when he lead armies to clean out the remaining pockets of resistance and engaged himself in diplomatic ruses to urge his foes to defect to his family’s fold.

His efforts contributed immensely to the conclusion of the civil war but far from resting on his laurels he turned his efforts into the rebuilding of many cities, the once Ruined City chief of all. He would marry a woman that he would soon treasure in a marriage of diplomatic convenience and be renowned throughout the land and was made Lord of the once Ruined City.

The dreadful experiences David underwent in that civil war and his memories of Elizabeth and all those who fought with him would remain with him till he died. Yet, it was these that gave David the inspiration and drive to work for it would be nothing short of being an ingrate to allow the many lives that were lost in that war to be in vain. David, The Lord of the once Ruined City, would bring not the city but the entire country to reach and surpass its former glory. Though Elizabeth could not know, her last wishes for David to work hard for her were fulfilled.

So it was that the noble deaths of many a man and woman spurred the others who lived not to despair but to work in their honour and in their memory! Surely this choice is worthy of admiration and emulation!

Yet much more important is the message embedded in these stories of human endeavour. Some may call it the 'moral of the story'. The moral of the story must be: