The World of Tai Tai

I attended a creative writing workshop in Kota Kinabalu, Sabah last Saturday. It was organized by Jude Day, president of Society of Performing Arts Kota Kinabalu Sabah(SPARKS), The invited speaker was Robert Raymer, a Sarawak-based American writer who is a lecturer of creative writing at Universiti Sarawak Malaysia. He is the author of 'Lovers and Strangers Revisited', 'Tropical Affairs', 'The Boy Who Shot Santa' and 'Spirit of Malaysia'. It only took me ten minutes to get to Wisma Anglican, the workshop venue from my hotel on shanks's pony. I felt honored to have met Mr. Robert Raymer in person.He exuded a quiet air of confidence and patience. I bought a copy of his 'Lovers and Strangers Revisited' and got it autographed by him. I was thrilled and could not help smiling from ear to ear. I picked up a lot of knowledge during the workshop. First, Robert Raymer expounded the essence of creative writing.Next, he showed us how to organiz...

A couple of days ago, my catechist sister came to my house when I was teaching at school. She told me what she thought of it when I returned home. Below is her nagging: " When I stepped into your house, I could feel the dustiness of the floor under my feet. I believe the floor had neither been swept nor mopped for a long time. Not only that, a lot of lizard droppings could be found on the window ledges in the sitting room and the kitchen. I even saw some on the water dispenser. Besides, the window panes were so dirty that I could easily leave my fingerprints on them. What have you been doing all these while? The house is yours and you should keep it clean all the time. Now, let's talk about your kitchen. you should keep all the plates and bowls in the kitchen cabinet instead of leaving them in the dish rack. The stove has to be wiped after cooking. Your bedroom was in a state of disorder. Your books and stationery were strewn at random on the floor. You did not fold yo...

My third attempt of writing a short story. Be brutally honest with your comment. Gilbert and I arrived at the out-of-the-way desert town some time at one in the somnolent July afternoon. The first thing that greeted our eyes was the chassis of a horse-drawn carriage. It stood forlornly before a row of tombstone-like old shop buildings. In the distance was a mountain of rocky stature. Totally still and devoid of life, the uninhabited town exuded an air of quiescent melancholy. We got out of our car and walked towards the carriage. The gritty sand crunched under the weight of our treading feet. It was the only sound we could hear besides the hollow whistling of the wind. I was uneasy in the oppressive silence. I did not know why we came here. Gilbert and I had been on our way to Yellowstone National Park before he took the sudden decision to come to the long-abandoned town. If Gilbert had set his mind on something, there was no stopping him. Walking with long strides, Gilbert...

Last Thursday, a seventeen-year-old girl was found dead on the outskirts of my hometown. She was killed by a boy of the same age in an attempted rape. Both of them had graduated from the school where I work last year. The boy and the girl had been close friends since primary school. There is no gainsaying that their relationship was akin to that of siblings.He is the son of a wealthy goldsmith while she was the daughter of a retired shell employer.The girl had a boyfriend whom the boy has known well.He has a girlfriend himself. On that fateful morning, the unsuspecting victim asked the boy to take her back to the school. The SPM results had been released the day before and she was eager to collect her result slip. Having a different plan in mind, the boy took her to a remote place instead. There, he professed his long-concealed love to her. He hoped the girl would accept him as a boy friend but she told him that she was faithful to her boyfriend and that she did not wish to establ...