My Preamble

Stars. It was evening when ideas began to stream down my numb brain while I was lying flat on my back under the vast expanses of the heavens, gazing at the mystical, ancient stars, trying to decipher their secret. I beamed as I drew the outline of an interesting plot inside my head, thanking the stars above, wondering perhaps their scattered pattern on the sky may indirectly contribute to the sudden flux of ideas inside my head. I lingered around for a moment, feeling the grass pricking softly into my back through my jersey before getting up. I started to walk across the silent meadow to my house with my head brimming with ideas – a plot of a story – wildly wanting to be written down.

I reached my study desk and as I sat down I could see the brilliant shining moon outside the windowpanes, hanging mysteriously on the shadowy sky. I took out a sheet of plain paper – blank, barely scribbled – and with a quiet prayer muttered under my breath, I grabbed my worn-out pen and began to write.

To be frank, the notion of writing – be it a novel, a poem or a short story – as a medium of inner expression had never struck me as mandatory. Yet as time passed, I realised that this passion for words had already been sown deep in my soul and it is now growing out like grapevines, overwhelming and gripping me taut.

And there is my first short story, finally been completed. Admittedly, I feel a rush of joy and satisfaction running deep in my veins – craving for more thus making me addicted. To my utter bewilderment, I find out that I cannot stop writing, not in another 30 years or so.

This recollection of my first writing experience may seem mediocre or ordinary to some of you, yet nonetheless this is what completes my life –like a missing piece of jigsaw puzzles – and constantly make me content.

To those who are able to see the glint of the pearls I weaved in between the words and the lines and the syllables, I hope you would appreciate all of my arts displayed here – my masterpieces – as you read them verbatim, delving ever deep into my realm.

The realm of a Wordweaver.