Elijah's Life Experiences

Stuck in the lift (version 2)             Panic.             It all started when I was at the lift lobby of my flat, waiting for the lift to arrive. I was not alone. A mother, clad in an expensive-looking light blue dress, was clutching her daughter’s hand. Like her mother, the daughter’s skin was as smooth as china. The sound that indicated the lift’s doors were opening, jolted me out of my deep thoughts. If I had known what was to come, I would have heeded my inner voice on taking the stairs instead.             Tapping my feet in sheer impatience, I furrowed my brow and grimaced at the excruciating slow progress of the lift’s number buttons flashing in sequence. 1… 2 … 3 … 4 … Without any warning, the lift jerked to a sudden halt. I was flung like a rag doll to the floor of the lift whereas the mother and her daughter managed to grip the railings of the lift tightly in the nick of time. Just as I struggled to get to my feet, the lift became enveloped in suffocating dark

"No more anger" tells a story of a most unfortunate action done due to  circumstances ...           No more anger.          It all started on that fateful Saturday night. My heart was in my mouth. The buzzing of the streets outside, which sounded like flies humming barely distracted me. I was watching a horror movie entitled “Evil Dead” with my wife, Joanne. We were newly-weds – a month exactly. We were sitting huddled together on the leather sofa watching the movie. Joanne had large, round eyes and long raven dark hair that rippled whenever she strode briskly beside me. A beautiful woman, Joanne was always subjected to male looks lingering on her.          Then, the real horror started.          The flickering lights from the television screen which illuminated the living room stopped flashing, plunging the living room into a sea of suffocating darkness. Joanne let out an ear-piercing scream of bewildered terror, which sounded like a banshee. It reverberate

The disappointment to Mother             What a disappointment I was to Mother.             It all started with a pen. This pen was starting to be a popular trend in my class. Everywhere I looked in my classroom, the pen was there. Whenever m friends asked whether I had the pen, I would just turn away shamefaced, my face flushed to a beetroot. To make matters worse, Mother was adamant in not purchasing the pen. One day, I just could not take it anymore and decided to execute my diabolical plan to get my object of desire after school.             Finally, school was over.             Making a dash for the bookstore beside my school, I went through my plan mentally. Take close scrutiny of the security guard before taking the pen when he was not watching. Sounded as easy as shooting fish into a barrel or so I thought …             Cool air from the airconditioner caressed my cheeks as I entered the bookstore. Scanning shelf after shelf with my chestnut brown eyes, I f

From hunger pang to angry fight             I only had myself to blame.             The cool air from the full-blast air-conditioner caressed my cheeks as I strolled into the cinema. Finally, I had the opportunity to catch the much-awaited “The Lego Movie” with my mother. A whiff of happiness was in the air as I arrived at the counter to purchase some popcorn. In next to no time, a box of popcorn was in my hands. As cheery as a sunflower, I began sinking my teeth into the sweet popcorn. “Heavenly tasting popcorn,” I said to myself as I popped them in.             At that juncture, a strong force barreled into my body.             Falling onto the ground with a thunderous thud, I groaned in agony. Popcorn was strewn all over. Seething with anger, I got back up on my feet. A boy around my age looked down, his face flushed as a beetroot. “I’m …. I’m sorry for causing you to fall,” he stammered in a squeaky manner very much reminiscent of a mouse. Adrenalin surging my body

Description of a middle-aged lady who is always impatient to getting things going             When she passed by, most people would thing of her as a nice and pleasant-looking middle-aged lady. In my mind, however, she is none other than our notoriously impatient neighbour, Mrs Wong. One could always sense her arrival by the unique ‘click-click-click’ sounds made by her gleaming designer high-heeled shoes. With her face as smooth as porcelain and the lustrous silky black hair cascading down her shoulders, Mrs Wong appeared to be a rather good-looking woman. However, as you get to know her better, you would see her in a different light. For instance, try having a simple conversation with Mrs Wong, and you would notice her initially pleasant demeanor transform. Less than five minutes unto the conversation, her face grew grim and she would become tight-lipped. Then with a tone of finality in her voice, she would just end the conversation with a regal wave of her hand and move off hur