Turtle Channel!!!

I read in the newspapers today that yesterday was the worldwide release of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. There were people actually queuing up outside bookstores to get the book! At 4am!!! This is insane!

Apparently in one Carrefour, the Potter book was sold out within 6 hours. My story? I walked into Tesco yesterday just before lunch because I needed to buy groceries. While I was there, I saw them selling the Harry Potter book. Not realising that it was the day of the worldwide release (since there was no crowd or no "rush" to buy the book), I strolled over, picked one of MANY books up and asked my partner whether I should waste money buying it. He asked me if I really wanted it. I said, "It's got a hardcover. I like hardcover books. I think I'll just get it". There was no one else rushing to buy the book. The only 3 people standing in front of the shelf were me, my partner and a guy wearing a Tesco shirt who was attempting to fill the entire shelf with a box full of the Deathly Hallows book.

Yes, Harry Potter fans are going to kill me. I didn't know anything about the book's release until I read the newspapers today. And I only bought the book because it has a hardcover.

Anyway, I finished the book last night. I kinda already expected the ending so it wasn't too thrilling for me. I got on the internet today and found people saying they cried and cried while reading the book. Personally I thought it was boring. The only part I particularly enjoyed was Severus Snape's memories of his conversation with Dumbledore and he showed his Patronus. And Dumbledore said"After all this time?" And Severus replied "Always". That part was actually quite sweet. With a name like Severus Snape, it's hard to appear sweet. But that was pretty sweet. In a sick sort of way. But I digress.

I can't believe fans were bawling over the book and over who died. Honestly, I was not really captured by the story even though I read all the books and got to know all the characters thoroughly. Somehow the writer did not properly kill off any of the characters and it all felt too fake, too rushed, too boring. I certainly don't recommend anyone to read this unless, of course, they have read all the other Potter books and want to know what happens to Snape. You don't need to know what happens to Voldemort. It's obvious. He's the bad guy and bad guys always die. YAWN.

Lord of the Rings was way better. Potter doesn't even come close. Who cares about Potter? Go Frodo!!!!

No one knew why he did it. Day after day, came rain or shine, there he stood at the corner of Alberta and Kilmaan Streets playing his guitar and singing softly. He placed no hat in front of him for monetary collection. In fact, any attempts to give him money was always promptly rejected. He once spent twenty minutes in a conversation with a very insistent 70-year-old woman on why he wouldn't take her ten dollar note. He had appeared one day many years ago, to the town. He was not homeless, nor was he poor. He was always immaculately dressed, with his black cotton pants, brown trenchcoat, shiny leather shoes and a tall hat. His clothes may be out of fashion, but they were always clean and impeccable. The locals became accustomed to his music and voice and any new resident quickly became acquainted with him. In the little town of Guevkirsten, there were no tourists.

He was known to all, and knew all. In such a small town, it was not hard to know everyone who lived there.

At dawn, the marketplace nearby would slowly come alive. Farmers, fish mongers and butchers would pass him by and every morning they would exchange at least one short sentence with him. He knew if they had a good harvest at the fields, or good haul at sea, or healthy livestock. He also would know if they had a bad night from being shunned by the wife to sleeping on the couch after coming home a wee bit too late from the tavern. He knew if they were happy, sad or just bored. And from their collective news at dawn, he would strum his faithful guitar and sing his self-composed lyrics.

With the sun high up in the sky and singing birds come the housewives, who would regularly be seen dragging their youngest children in tow. They would wish him good morning, listen to his tune and hurry off to the marketplace. If he were singing a joyful tune, they knew that the harvest and meat would probably be good and they couldn't want to get to the market for their shopping! If he were singing a soulful tune, they would also hurry off to the market to try to get the best bargain before any other woman snatches up a better deal or a better piece of meat. But most of the time, his tune was merry and the women would hurry off anyway, eager to shop and spend their money on food and perhaps some new clothes for the children. The young children who followed their mothers often wander off to him and his guitar while their mommys bargain to their hearts content. The women never worried, for crime was low in their little town, and at any rate they knew their children can be found playing near him at the corner of Alberta and Kilmaan Streets. He would entertain his chlidish audience with stories and accompanying music. His stories were always different, but they all ended the same way: singing a merry folk song that all the children would know by heart from the age of three. Most of them could remember up to five of his folk songs.

The women and young children would soon leave the marketplace before noon. The mothers who stopped to claim their children from his loyal audience would have a small chat with him. He would know their latest triumphs (see the pretty blue bonnet my husband got for me, all I had to do was praise his muscles a little!), and also their latest grievances (ooh, little Tim broke my favourite porcelein vase last night!) He would share in their victories and help shoulder the pain that their children caused them. All the gossip would certainly pass through his ears, and the best thing about him was that they never passed through his lips. He deflected all unwanted questions and probings by strumming his guitar and breaking into yet another song.

At noon, the older children would return home from school. Most of them, if not all, would stop by his side to sing along with him. He was never made fun of, for he was their favourite friend and the only entertainment available to the children apart from the occasional arrival of the circus or moving funfair. The children knew and loved him, sang his songs, told him of their day in school and some even make up new songs to sing along with him. They stayed for a half hour, and hurry off home to eat and to help out in the housework. The girls would have to cook, clean or tend to the front garden while the boys would have to manage the vegetable patches in the back yard, mend the fences or fix the plumbing. Hence the half hour they spent with him would be the time with they are totally carefree to gossip among each other while being entertained by his guitar.

In the afternoon, the market closes and so do all the shops. The shopkeepers would pass him by, stopping to inquire about his health and to talk about their business. Often, they would share a little of their produce with him, some gave him chocolates, some gave him bread and some gave him a pipe. He would, in return, listen to their troubles and wash away their worries with a song. It always worked.

The evenings saw the men return from work, and walking out to the pubs and taverns. They would pass him by, sober, and later in the night a little more tipsy than their wives would prefer. They listened and talked to him before a drink, and sang with him after. On specials nights, like someone's birthday, he would join them in the pub...him and his faithful old guitar...playing the birthday song, and any other song requests.

He was well liked.

Yet, he had no job. No one knew where he got the money to eat. He never worked, for he was always there, at the corner of Alberta and Kilmaan Street, standing and strumming his guitar. No one knew anything about his family or his friends.

He was not there, at the corner of Alberta and Kilmaan Streets, one fine day in early October just before the autumn claimed the land. The music and singing was missed terribly. The town icon was lost. They waited for him for two days, they went to his known address, they even called the police in the big city 2 hours away. But no one knew where he went. He had simply disappeared.

And it was very quiet, there at the corner of Alberta and Kilmaan Streets.

Three months later, the young boys began to take out their guitars to sing there for about a half hour after their school closes. Their mothers did not disapprove. The men followed their suit, and started taking guitars to the pubs and taverns at nights. The women started singing to the marketplace, and the young children in tow also humming along the same tune.

The man was gone, but the music never died.

Two monks had to travel to the nearest town to buy some supplies for their temple. Since their temple was quite secluded, they had left their temple at around four in the morning. They walked slowly to the town, and arrived at 10am. After buying all that was needed for their temple, they started making their way back around 11.

One hour into their journey home, they came across a river. They decided to stop for a while to take a short break. They drank their water and sat down next to the river to rest their tired legs. Just then, a young lady walked towards them. She was a beautiful lady, with fair porcelain-like skin and willowy body. She looked distressed. She wanted to cross the river, but she did not know how to swim! So the elder monk told her to climb onto his back and he will carry her across. She was still apprehensive that the river might sweep her away when they are crossing. So he told her to hold on tight to him.

As they were crossing the river, the second monk, a young chap, looked over at the elder monk. He was aghast to see the young lady holding so tightly to his companion, who also happened to be his superior in the temple. Her body was pressed onto the elder monk’s back and her bosom was pushed up onto the neck of the man. His face was so very close to her bosom! This was unacceptable!!! As monks, they were not supposed to touch women! And here his mentor is practically making love to the young lady!

Just then, they reached to the other side of the river. The elder monk set the young lady onto her feet. She thanked him, and continued along her journey. The two monks went a different direction from her, back to their temple. As they continued their walk back, the younger monk kept thinking about how the lady and the elder monk held on to each other as they crossed the river. The elder monk is such a corrupt monk! He is a lecherous man! All his teachings were tainted, as he couldn’t even keep to the most basic of rules which was to stay away from women!

The more the younger monk thought about it, the angrier he became. He started questioning everything the else monk had been doing up to that moment. He was repulsed by all the words and interaction they have had. He couldn’t imagine going on as a apprentice monk under the supervision of such a man. As they approached the temple gates, he turned to the elder monk and told him that he wanted to change superiors.

The elder monk was very surprised. He had thought they were doing well, and could not understand why the younger monk wanted to change superiors all of the sudden. The younger monk, his face red with anger and embarrassment for the elder monk, told him that he was very improper to carry the young lady that way. It was not right, it was against their teachings, and it showed his weakness and lust for women!

The elder monk looked at his student compassionately. “I had put the young lady down by the river four hours ago,” he said, “But you have carried her until now. What a pity!”

Sebastian was a simple man. Yet he was a happy man. He woke up everyday and sang about the bright and lovely sun, even on a cloudy and rainy day when the sun was hidden behind a thick mass of clouds. He looked outside his window every evening and was happy to see the beautiful world outside, even on days of haze, miserable winters and traffic congestions. He would drive his wife up the wall, for he was just totally oblivious to his immediate surroundings.

Sebestian had a neighbour who disliked him immensely. His neighbour would tell all the others staying at the same block, about how inconsiderate Sebastian was, and how proud he was. "Sebastian always does his own thing without any consideration for anyone else. He is so selfish", he would say, "look, he planted a tree right next to my fence and all the leaves fall onto my lawn. What a nasty guy!". Sometimes he would say "Sebastian had another woman over in his house today, I bet he is cheating on his wife".

But Sebastian never knew about these words, or maybe he did not remember them. For many others had gone up to him either to question him suspiciously, or to inform him kindly to beware of his neighbour. Yet he never seemed to notice, and would happily continue along his way without even noticing his neighbour's angry stare. Perhaps he had a poor memory, or perhaps he was stupid, or perhaps he was very bold, no one really knew for sure. All they knew was that he always said "oh ok!" when they either questioned him or tell him about what was being said about him. And that was that.

One day, his neighbour went over to Sebastian's house and chopped down the tree that was in between the two houses. Sebastian woke up in the morning to see only the tree stump left. His neighbour was sitting calmly in his own front porch, waiting for Sebastian to confront him. He was waiting to tell Sebastian, "You deserve it, you inconsiderate fool. Do you think I want to sweep your stupid leaves everyday from my yard? You asked for your tree to be chopped!" Sebastian ran out from his house to his neighbour's porch and when he was face to face with his neighbour, he said "Thanks so much for chopping down my tree. Now I have more space in my yard. You are very kind!" With that, he shoke his neighbour's hand and sang a little song as he walked back to his house. His neighbour was livid! "Is he trying to be sarcastic? He is deliberately doing this to annoy me, that little rat!" he thought in anger.

So the next day, he went over to Sebastian's house and pulled up all the flowers. Sebastian woke up in the morning to see all the hard work he had put into gardening all lying dead on the broken soil. He paused for a moment, and then went up to his neighbour (who was waiting on the front porch of his house). Sebastian said, "You are so kind to allow me to plant something new in my garden. I had become rather attached to those flowers and would never have been able to get rid of them without your kind help. Now perhaps I can go plant some herbs instead!" And he sang a merry tune as he made his way back to the garden.

His neighbour was even more angry than before. Soon, all the residents of the block knew about how cruel, manipulative and calculative Sebastian was. But Sebastian was oblivious to their angry stares and suspicious glances. He walked happily about his neighbourhood smiling at all who passed him and thought to himself, "what a beautiful world, so full of wonderful people".

At this point, his neighbour had reigned in some support from other fellow neighbours. Together they plotted to splash paint all over Sebastian's house to teach him a lesson. Some wrote "Get out of this place!" or "Move away, we don't want you" or even "Everyone hates you!!" on the exterior walls of his house. When Sebastian woke up in the morning, he found his peach-coloured house splashed with red, green and yellow. He read all the words slowly. And he looked up towards his neighbour. This time, his neighbour was sitting at the front porch with a group of his friends, drinking tea and laughing at the hated Sebastian.

Sebastian waved at them and said "Good morning!! It's really nice to meet you all!" And he smiled happily as he went to the store to get fresh paint. Sebastian spent the rest of the day painting his house a new colour: Ivory. He sang happily and merrily as he did so, and when his neighbour and friends jeered at him, he only waved happily and continued along his way.

That night, Sebastian's wife could not take it anymore. She berated him, "You stupid man, our neighbour is making a fool of you. He has gone around saying all sorts of things about you. You need to go explain yourself to everyone else, otherwise they will mistake you for someone wicked. You need to make them see what a horrid and wicked man our neighbour is! He has done all sort of mischiefs like chopping our wonderful and shady tree, pulling up all our hard-grown flowers and wrote a lot of disgusting things on our walls. That is harrassment and you have to right to sue him!!!"

Sebastian looked at his wife for a long time in silence. He then said, "I don't understand why you say our neighbour is such a wicked man. He is a very nice man. He has helped me so much with the garden and the repainting of our house. He is a kind and loving man. See, he even brought a group of his friends to help cheer me on as I paint." His wife said, "They are not cheering you on, they are jeering at you. Didn't you hear what they said? They said 'paint away, you stupid man! Selfish people have to work harder because they deserve it!'. Can't you see that? Or are you really stupid?" And Sebastian replied, "Isn't that the same as cheering? How kind they are!"

At this point, his wife shook her head and made plans to convince Sebastian to move out of the neighbourhood. She went to bed fretting and angry that all the residents around them hated her husband so much.

His neighbour went to bed thinking what a stupid, calculative, manupulative, wicked and nasty man Sebastian was. He will tell everyone about Sebastian's wicked ways and chase the moron our of his house!

Sebastian went to bed thinking what a beautiful and wonderful world it is that he lived in. People are caring and kind, and so very helpful. Tomorrow the sun will be bright and lovely, and he couldn't wait to see it!

She was lonely again. As always, he left for work without so much as a glance at her. It never used to be this way. He had always looked at her so lovingly. But now, he does not even notice her anymore. She felt so invisible. She asked herself this morning as she had asked so many times before, 'Why do I continue to stay in this house?'. Yet she always remained where she was, never moving out and never even able to tell him how she felt.

They had met in Paris, on a bright summer day four years ago. It was love at first sight...for him anyway. She actually didn't think much of him when they first met. He had walked into the art gallery and although there were many others who were equally as beautiful as her, he noticed her right away. She could still remember how his eyes had swept all over the room before settling down on her. Once he had noticed her, he never took his eyes off her. He had walked purposefully over to her and within the hour, brought her back to his hotel. She had many suitors before, but no one had enough to offer to capture her. Oh, he had all the right qualities, he was extremely wealthy, intelligent, handsome and suave.

Back at his hotel, he had spent the rest of the day just looking at her and telling her how magnificent and beautiful she was. He had been so gentle and careful when he touched her, but most of the time, he was contented just looking at her. He did not even consent to leave her side throughout the rest of the day. He was so in love with her. And so she had left Paris for New York with him the very next day.

Back in New York, he had introduced her to all his friends and co-workers. She met his entire family within the first month. His mother thought she was lovely, although her experience with his father was not quite so pleasant. It appeared that his father did not approve of her, and felt that she was far too extravagant for his son. It bothered her a little at first, but since he took little interest in anything his father said, she felt more reassured.

He was a popular and influential man. He held many cocktail parties in his apartment, and she had met the Senator, the Secretary of State and even the Vice-President over a glass of champagne. All of them marvelled at her beauty and praised her lavishly. She always felt beautiful, always at the center of attraction whenever he held one of his parties. In fact, she looked forward to them.

But a year ago, all that changed. She had been shunned to the guest room. He no longer looked at her with love and appreciation. He no longer even noticed her. He had never once entered her room, much less spent any time with her at all. The only person she saw on a regular basis is the maid. Recently, he only returned to their apartment once or twice a week. She suspected that he may have another mistress some place else and is spending more time there.

There were fewer cocktail parties now. The last function they had was 2 months ago, when he threw a birthday party for his seventeen year-old sister. She was not even invited to attend the party. She was only able to enjoy the it from listening to the music, laughter, buzz of conversation and sounds of glasses clinking while she waited quietly in her room. He did not even come in to see her after the party had ended.

It was now evening. She wondered if he would be coming home. She wanted to know him if he still loved her or if there was someone else, but the words just refused to come out. She heard the front door open. She waited, excitedly, for him to come into her room. She heard his familiar footsteps. So often she had listened out for him, only to hear his footsteps lead away from her towards the Master bedroom across the hall. But today, he seemed to be walking closer and closer to her door. She could hear another set of footsteps, it sounded an awful lot like high-heel stilettoes. Good God, was he going to throw her out in favour of another woman?

The door opened. A burst of light entered her unlit room. He fumbled at the light switch, eventually finding it and flicking it on. The room was suddenly flooded with light, blinding her. "You may stay here for the night," she heard him say. "There is an attached bathroom you can use to clean up."

"Thanks bro," she heard his sister say, as she slowly adjusted to the light. She watched as his sister placed a bright pink luggage on the floor next to the bed. His sister turned to look at her. Then she heard his sister say, "Wow it has been a long time since I last saw this painting. I had wondered what you did with it." He turned and looked at her for the first time in one entire year and said, "Well, I bought a new painting, so I relocated this one to the guest room. Anyway, get some sleep. I'll call to tell Mom you're spending the night here. You should probably try to sort out your differences with her tomorrow."

His sister made a face at him and said ,"Whatever." He left the room. His sister washed up, took a shower and went to bed. And she was left hanging on the wall above the bed, wishing she could say goodnight.

If you haven't read the previous parts, please read
http://melooi.blogspot.com/2006/08/princess-and-turtle.html
and
http://melooi.blogspot.com/2006/09/news-update-frog-prince-and-princess.html
before proceeding with this entry.

* * * *
The Frog Prince has had enough! With so many servants, the princess still wanted him to hunt down turtles. She claims that he was better at turtle-hunting and bbq-ing than anyone else. He certainly did not agree with such audacious claims, but there was nothing he could do, for she could scream, shriek and nag like nothing he had ever experienced before.

He could not escape the castle, so he hatched a new plan. Everyday, he went down to the pond where the turtles hid and told them about the beautiful and noble princess. He told all the turtles that the princess was kind, gentle and loving and that it was indeed an honour to be given the opportunity to die for the princess.

The naive turtles began to believe him, and every fortnight when the bonfire was lit, a turtle would gladly sacrifice his life for the princess. After 6 months, the turtles learnt to crawl to the fire themselves and to throw themselves in. Hence, every fortnight, one turtle would jump into the fire for the princess. It would truly believe that it was doing a noble deed for the kind princess.

When the princess found out the deeds of the turtles, she was delighted. She found it extraordinarily amusing that the turtle would so happily die for her pleasure. She dismissed the Frog Prince and told him he was now redundant.

The Frog Prince could not pack his things fast enough. Within the same hour of his dismissal, he left the castle in a great hurry before the princess could change her mind!

(Please stay tuned for more updates on the Frog Prince)

The mice were scared and angry. The cats had struck again last week, this time, killing 20 of their clan in 10 minutes. The memory of the blood and gore made it impossible to sleep without waking up every few minutes. This massacre, although not new, was certainly the worse one they had in recent years.

A strong and young mouse called Strand stood up with the rest of his kind and said: "Mice of all sizes and ages, we must unite! We must fight for a better future. We cannot go on like this, being food to the cats. Although our ancestors have lived this way for centuries and although our elders tell us this is the law of nature, I REJECT THIS NOTION! We must progress. If the cats are causing us to live in fear, THEN WE MUST KILL THE CAT!"

All the young mice starting chanting "KILL THE CAT! KILL THE CAT!"

And in the decade that followed, the mice started planning and scheming the many ways to kill cats. 2 years after Strand first suggested killing cats, they learnt to start fires. 2 years after that, they learnt to walk quietly to the cats and light their tails on fire. 2 years after that the mice learnt that gasoline will spread the fire even faster. And 4 years after that all the cats were dead.

The mice rejoiced! Their oppressors were finally gone! And without their natural predators, their population grew and grew and grew. The virile males were mating at fervent speed and in the next year, the population of mice tripled!

Meanwhile, the dogs were getting hungry. With their food source gone, they had suffered a great deal. When there appeared to be more mice, the dogs realised that they need not starve anymore. Here was a new source of food for them! In the same year, they learnt to appreciate the taste of mice and began to gobble them up.

Dogs eat more than cats. MUCH more. And so the number of mice started to dwindle after 2 years of being hunted by dogs. By this time, the mice had suffered so much that they could not hold back their sorrow. It was even worse than in the time of cats, for at least the cats did not hunt in huge packs like the dogs. Massacres of hundreds of mice became a norm, and poor Strand died in heart break.

But another young mouse named Brunt stood up on his hind legs are shouted, "Mice of all age and sizes, we must unite! As we had once rind the cats, NOW WE MUST RID THE DOGS!" All the young mice followed, and stood on their hind legs and shouted, "RID THE DOGS! RID THE DOGS!"

They first tried setting the dogs tails on fire, but they quickly found that it was impossible to do so. Dogs travelled in packs, and it was not possible to quietly light their tails on fire without the rest of the pack killing the attack group. So for the first 2 years, the mice learnt to make nets. The next 2 years, they learnt how to make STRONG nets. And the following 2 years they learnt how to make BIG nets.

Finally they were ready to war with the dogs. They began trapping the dogs using the nets and then setting the whole pack on fire using gasoline. After 4 years, there were no more dogs left.

Once again the mice rejoiced! They were rid of their oppressors! They can now like free and do anything they want! That year, the males were so elated that they mated more fervently than ever before. The population of mice increased tenfold.

However, the lions who were feeding on the dogs began to starve. With the dogs slowly disappearing into extinction, they had nothing much to eat and had suffered tremendously that year. They just could not live on grass and grain. When the massive crowd of mice began to run about the fields to play, the hungry lions could not help themselves but devour all the mice they saw.

Lions eat more than dogs. MUCH more. And so once again, the population of mice decreased rapidly. Massacres of thousands at a time became a normal occurence. The living conditions for the mice were worse than when they were hunted by dogs. Poor Brunt lived to see all that was happening and died in misery and regret.

But no fear, Trevor is here! Trevor, a muscular and bright young mouse gathered what was left of the mice and told them, "This is a horrible way to live. If we are to die to lions, let us die with pride! Let us bring them down as we die! LET US SLAY THE LIONS!"

And so the new war cry of the mice became "SLAY THE LIONS! SLAY THE LIONS". Trevor divided the group of mice to 2 - the research team and the kamekaze squad. The kamekaze squad were trained to creep quietly up to the lions, while the research team began to study microorganisms. And 2 years quickly passed this way.

The next 2 years, the research team learn to cultivate poisonous bacteria while the kamekaze squad studied religion and psychology to prep themselves for their task ahead. The research team then injected the bacteria to the mice in the kamekaze squad, who then crept up to the lions to be devoured.

The lions who devoured the infected bacteria began to die. It was a slow death, but an effective one. In the next 10 years, the number of lions reduced by tenfold and after the following decade there were no more lions left.

The mice, who had been suffering for over 20 years at the paws of the lions finally saw the last lion die. Their numbers had been reduced to only 200 mice at the end of their ordeal. But without the lions hunting them down, they could finally live in peace again.

The happy mice mated and mated and mated, ate and ate and ate and once again thousands of mice walked the land. They were free to do whatever they wanted!!! How great it was! When Trevor finally died, he died a very happy mouse, knowing that he had done his fellow mice a great favour.

However, one day after 50 years of freedom, the young mice started to report of new massacres. Humans, who had lived for 50 years without eating meat were now hungry for the taste of animal meat. They had learnt to enjoy eating barbequed mice and now, mice hunting was a sport.

Humans ate more than lions. MUCH more. Especially the young growing males. Massacres of TENS of THOUSANDS of mice became a normal occurence. A young mouse named Henry shouted for unity among the mice. He organized a meeting and told the mice, "Mice of all age and sizes, we need to unite! We are once again under oppresion. We must stand united and SLAUGHTER THE HUMANS!"

All the other young mice began shouting, "SLAUGHTER THE HUMANS! SLAUGHTER THE HUMANS!" when suddenly they were all trapped! Humans had hunted them down to their meeting place and all of them, including Henry, became hamburgers that day.

And so after 10 years, there were no more mice left.






If only they had learnt to live with the cats.....

It had 2 years since that fateful kiss that transformed the frog prince into a man. It should have been a joyous occasion. Yet for the past two years, he had been nothing more than a manservant who had to hunt for turtles every morning and barbequed them every noon for the Princess’s lunch. Many a time he had wanted to run away, or even to look for the witch who had first turned him into a frog so that he could return to the life of a care-free frog. Yet he was still there, in that castle, with the turtle-loving Princess.

Yes, he was pretty much stuck there. There were guards and soldiers everywhere, all over the castle and its compound. There was no escape at all. He had no choice but to continue being the Frog Prince and Turtle Killer.

Perhaps he could try persuading the Princess to stop eating turtles…

(Stay tuned for more updates on the Frog Prince)

She was now almost at the village gates. She could hear the voices of the villagers coming from a distance. Everyone was waiting for her. The young girl despaired. What was she going to tell them? What would her mother say? Should she tell them about the dead flower? Would she have to shave her hair off when she got to the convent?

The horror of having to shave off her long black hair made her stop in her tracks. Suddenly she felt short of breath. Her head began to pound as she slumped down at the side of the village gates, wondering what to do. It was then that she noticed it.

Something was stuck to the bottom of her shoe. She took her shoe off for the first time in 3 days. And there, at the bottom of her shoe was a tiny, discreet flower that was ivory in colour. Now she understood why her shoe had felt so uneven throughout the entire journey. She had thought it was odd that her shoes felt uncomfortable, and had dismissed it as just slightly torn when she first started hiking up the mountain. Now it is clear that it wasn’t because her shoe was spoilt; it was because there was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe! And although she had trekked all over the mountain, climbed a cliff, swam in the waterfall and walked all the way back to the village, the flower had not died. It was still very much alive, a resilient little thing, and it still emitted the strange fragrance of its own. It smelt very much like the air after a heavy rainfall. She put it closer to her nose and smelt it again. It was indeed a very special fragrance.

She took a closer look at the flower. It looked very normal; it was just a very simple flower with a pale yellow center and tiny ivory petals. Yet it managed to stay alive throughout all the stomping, throughout all the rock climbing and throughout all the water diving. Its resilience for life touched the young girl’s heart.

She carefully carried the flower in her hand and took it into the village. This was a flower, surely, that could save her from life in the Convent. As she approached the villagers, they were excited. The most excited one was her mother, whose voice can be heard from all ends of the village. When she showed them the little ivory flower, the villagers could not believe that any girl would bring back something so simple, particularly this young girl for she was strong, intelligent and beautiful. Her mother could not hide her disappointment, and stopped talking to the girl at all. The only person who was accepting of her choice was her father. But she was saved, she did not have to go to the convent, and that was enough for her. She planted her little flower alongside her mother’s daisies and tended to it earnestly.

In the months that followed, the weather became very dry. Summer that year was a harsh one, all the rivers and lakes dried up and many plants died. The men could no longer work in the fields for their crops were either dead or dying. They could survive only through the sale of their livestock.

All the flowers in the village, and the nearby villages, slowly began to wither and die. All except one.

The young girl’s flower bush remained well and alive despite the lack of water. In fact, it continued flowering through the driest of months. It still emitted the fragrance of the air after rainfall. The fragrance became more and more seductive as the land dried up and the skies remained cloudless. Many people flocked to her village from all parts of the kingdom to buy her flowers. She sold some, and gave many more away, for she wanted to make everyone happy and hopeful for rain. Her village soon became known as the Village of Hope.

Eventually the rain did fall and after many more months, flowers grew again. But because all the flowers in the kingdom had died during the dry spell, the flower-hunting and cultivating tradition had to be stopped. Women were since allowed to make money doing other chores, such as selling handicraft or catering and some even opened bakeries. They had no more time to tend to flowers.

But the young girl continued to take care of her flowers. Her flowers were planted all over the Village of Hope and she tended to every one of the flower bushes.

As days turn to years and she became old, she would tell her grandchildren that she had once come so close to becoming a princess and showing off the most beautiful flower in the world that she got from the bottom of the lake. She told them of the beautiful petals and sweet fragrance of the flower.

And then she would go on to show them the flowers in her garden. She gently spoke to them:

“This may not be the most beautiful flower in the world. But beauty will fade and die away, and a sweet fragrance is just like another perfume you can buy off the street. This flower, on the other hand, will go through the hardest of times with you, and emits the smell of life even during the harshest of seasons. When you grow up in future, remember these words and you will be find all the happiness in your lives.”

THE END.

It was now nearly 3 in the afternoon. The young girl had just rested for 20 minutes. ‘I will try again’, she thought, ‘and if I fail, I will return with the orchid’. She took the deepest breath she could possibly take and dove, straight as a bullet, into the center of the lake. As her eyes fixed on the flower at the bottom, she began kicking her legs fiercely, propelling her body towards the plant. Her lungs began to hurt, but she had just only passed the halfway mark. She pushed further and her lungs hurt even more. ‘Just a little bit more, just a little bit more’ she told herself repeatedly.

‘Just a little bit more…’ as her hand reached out for the flower. She was now very dizzy, and her lungs felt as though they were on fire. Her chest felt like it was exploding!

‘Just a little…..’ and she passed out. Her body slowly floated to the surface.

Lucky for her, she was faced up when she reached the surface. She had floated there for almost an hour before she regained consciousness.

“Oh my God!” she exclaimed, “I have to get back to the village!”

She swam to the bank of the waterfall. She climbed up the bank and instantly remembered the flower at the bottom of the lake. Feeling sad that she had failed, she looked back sadly at the lake.

At the other end of the lake, a red flower floated. It wasn’t…..it was…IT WAS the flower! She had succeeded in pulling the flower up! Even though she had passed out and almost drowned in the process she did manage to get the flower in the end!!! Shaking with excitement, the young girl dove back into the lake and swam unsteadily towards the flower. When she finally reached the flower, she took a long look at it. It was indeed red, with light spots of rosy pink. It was a large flower, almost as large as her arm’s length and smelt as sweet as the first day of spring. What a beauty!

She swam back to her bag and replaced the orchid with the new flower. She was so happy that she ran all the way back to her village! All the way back, she could not stop envisioning the villagers’ expressions when they saw her flower. She started to wonder which of the princes would marry her. She would be a princess! Would her dress be satin? Would it be silk? And she would carry a beautiful scepter made of gold, diamonds and gems! Her life would never be empty again!!

She was almost at her village when she felt the urge to look at her flower again. When she opened her bag, her eyes became very large and her jaw dropped. The beautiful flower was no longer red! Once bright red petals were now brown, and the sweet smell it emitted was now the smell of rotten eggs! What had happened?

Minutes passed by as the sun began to set. The young girl just sat staring at the once-beautiful flower. She had already thrown away the orchid. The beautiful flower from the bottom of the lake was dead. She was now flowerless. Even if she were to find another flower from just anywhere, she would not make it back to the village in time. The rancid smell of the flower filled the air. It was hard for her to imagine how a sweet smell could turn into something so awful in just moments after its death. Although it was the most beautiful flower when it was alive, it was certainly one of the ugliest when dead. And it died so easily too!

She slowly got to her feet and picked up her empty bag. Dejected, she slowly made her way back to the village and acceptance of her future life in the convent and the Sisterhood began slowly seeping into her heart.

(To be continued…)

The young girl spent the first two days searching for the most beautiful flower in the world. She worked very hard, climbing into the hard to reach places.

On Sunday evening, she cut herself very badly against the rocks of a cliff to get to a small landing in the middle of the cliff itself. There she found a very lovely and rare orchid that she knew was worth even more than the peach-coloured rose bush. She happily dug out the orchid plant and put it carefully into her bag. But she did not return to the village yet.

‘Wait’, she thought to herself, ‘I still have time. I may just find the most beautiful flower in the world if I work a little harder’.

So she made her way down the cliff and spent the night sleeping on a branch of a tree. Early the next morning, she woke up and ate a little bread to replenish her strength. She explored more of the land without finding anything new that could match the orchid she currently had inside her bag. As day became noon, she chanced upon a waterfall. She jumped in, happy to bathe and cool off from all her efforts hunting. As she swam to the middle of the waterfall, she could barely make out an outline of a flower at the bottom of the lake. It looked like an unknown species of flower.

‘Wow, that looks even more rare than my orchid!’ She thought excitedly. She took a deep breath, held it and dove into the lake. But she was not even halfway down when she ran short of breath and had to return to the surface. The lake was much deeper than she expected! Undaunted, she tried again, and this time she managed to go a little deeper. But she was still very far from the flower when she had to return to the surface again.

Again and again, the young girl tried. Each time she got a little closer, but each time she was more tired. She had to rest longer in between her tries to catch her breath. After 4 hours of diving, she finally gave up and walked away. But she could not stop thinking about the flower, for as she had drawn closer to the flower, she could see that the flower was indeed very beautiful. It was red in colour, and was about an arm’s length. It COULD just be the flower her mother had told her about. It could actually be the most beautiful flower in the world!!!

She ran back to the waterfall. ‘I will try again and again until I get that flower, even if I have to drown in the process!’ She thought persistently. And so she spent the entire evening and night diving for the flower.

Tuesday morning came, and she was still trying. She had not slept all night, but she did not want to stop. She knew she had to start making her way home soon, or she might not make it back in time. Her mother would be very disappointed in her if she finally would have to join the convent and the Sisterhood.

(To be continued…)

Yeah I am dumb..no idea how to post up a picture for my profile, so this step was recommended by blogger...haha....

Little pink kitty ears here! I LOVE PINK!!!

For as long as she could remember, the little girl’s mother had always told her to find a better flower bush than the one that was currently growing outside their front yard. Her mother had found a fairly common species of daisy. Even though the daisies she sold every morning brought quite a respectable sum of money, she was still unhappy. She spent most of her life wistfully wishing she had more time to find something better. “Perhaps I should have gone North of the village, or perhaps hike up the mountain”, she would say.

The strange thing was that the little girl’s father would take care of most of the household expenditure despite it being the woman’s responsibility. He neither smoked tobacco, nor drank at the taverns hence he always had extra silver to bring home unlike most other men in the village who like to spend everything they earn from working in the fields on getting themselves ridiculously drunk at night. The little girl’s mother would always have enough for new clothes and accessories. Yet in comparison with her best friend, she had little, for her best friend had very fortunately found a rare peach-coloured rose bush that fetched quite a tidy sum of money every week.

Anyhow, the girl’s mother got more and more excited as the time for her daughter to venture out for three days in search of a flower drew closer. She seemed to think that her daughter’s success in finding a flower would mean that she would get more spending money. The young girl felt a lot of pressure and anxiety and fear that she may not be able to find something that would please her mother.

Again and again, her mother told her how capable she was at finding the most beautiful flower in the world. “I have such high hopes for you”, her mother told her everyday. “You will be the first village girl to become a princess!”

On a bright Sunday morning, the village celebrated her venturing out. She was to return before the sun went down on Tuesday. In her bag, she had packed some bread and drinking water. The young girl said her goodbyes and turned to walk away. As she left her village, she could her mother cry out, “Go to the mountains! Get the most beautiful flower in the world!! Make me proud!”

And so up the mountain she went.
(To be continued…)

Since she was five, her mother had told her the story of the most beautiful flower in the world. It is a big flower, of about an arm’s length. It has petals of a lovely shade of red that faded slowly into a rosy pink colour at the tips. It fills the air with a strong sweet smell and was a precious, rare flower that many would sought after. If you find one, you can sell it for 3 sacks of gold!

Find the flower, her mother always told her, and you will be happy for the rest of your life.

In fact, the flower is so rare, so exquisite and so beautiful that if you found one, you could present it to the castle and may actually be accepted by one of the princes! What a wonderful fairytale ending it would be for a young village girl to become a princess!!

The little girl grew up looking forward to the day she would be old enough to go hunting for her very own flower. ‘I would be a princess someday’, she thought.

Now it is the tradition in their village (and the all the nearby villages in the kingdom) that after a certain age, young girls must venture out for a maximum period of three days and find one flower to bring home and plant in their front yard. It was said to signify the coming of age. After the flower had been planted, the girl would be ready for marriage. The flowers that would henceforth bloom from the original plant can be sold in markets and the money would be the girl’s spending money. Women were not allowed to ask their husbands for any additional money for household expenditure!

If the girl was not home after a period of three days, when she returned she was to report to the nearest convent and become a nun. Her life would be a life of charity and penance. Although there are some girls who would voluntarily enter the convent, there was always shortage of nuns to do charitable works such as feeding the hungry and providing shelter to the homeless. Without the girls who could not meet the flower-hunting dateline, the convent’s Sisterhood would be in grave danger of extinction. The Sisterhood is an important part of their society as they are viewed upon as the life support of the kingdom, especially during times of war, draught and floods.

This flower-hunting and cultivation tradition is said to be aimed at grooming young girls to be responsible adults since they had to take care of the flowers in their front yard for the rest of their lives. If the flower-plant should die, the woman would be destitute and her husband had a right to divorce her (since she would no longer be able to care for the household expenditures).

(To be continued…)

It was an exceedingly warm afternoon. We sat quietly in our small canoe, hoping to reach our destination soon. Two days ago, some natives informed our camp about the sighting of an old temple just down the river. What they forgot to tell us, was that the river is about 20 kilometres long, and gets rather treacherous to travel on at the halfway mark.

Nevertheless, here we were sitting quietly in a tiny canoe that nicely fits 5 including me, Edwin (our archeological expert), and a native guide. Full marks to those who managed to guess who was rowing the canoe...Anyway, we managed to bypass the rough waters by trekking through 15 kilometres of swampland. It was awful and camping there during the night left us all exhausted, but at least we're alive, which is more than one can say against the rough river waters. Again, no surprises as to which poor soul was left dragging the canoe throughout the entire swampland adventure. It remains a mystery as to how the native is still strong enough to propel our canoe towards our final destination.

1 hour down, and we finally arrived at the above-mentioned temple. We were extremely disappointed to find that it was probably built 30 years ago judging by its condition, design and the fact that it had a fan and a power generator. Behind the temple was a hill, whereby some kind fellow had carved out steps on the ground to make some sort of a stairway to the hilltop. We collectively groaned when we saw that on the other side of the hill, there were gravel roads, which meant that we could have simply driven here from our camp!

Nevertheless, Edwin decided to make the best of our situation and climbed into a pond directy front of the temple. He was splashing himself to cool off, when we spotted a very tiny, green something sitting on a nearby rock next to where Edwin was splashing about. It soon became apparent that the green thing was actually a really small turtle (also known as a terrapin since it is obviously a fresh-water turtle). The species of this turtle is unknown to me, as it is nothing like any turtle I have ever laid my tired eyes on. It had a small longish but flat shell and its head protruded from its shell by almost the length of the shell itself. It seemed to be rather agitated at our close scrutiny.

Rather than retreating into its shell (which is what most turtles would have probably done), it poked his head further out and started snapping at me. I started back in shock! The turtle was actually snapping. It snapped at me again even though Edwin was closest to it (I don't know why, but I suspect it may have something to do with it being blinded by Edwin's pink shirt), and this time, we could see its sharp teeth rather clearly. A moment later, the tiny thing literally charged at me, swimming very fast across the pond and running towards me. I had NEVER seen a turtle that snaps, let alone one that has sharp teeth. And until this tiny thing came along, I was always under the impression that turtles move rather slowly on land.

This thing was running at me. I dropped my bags and ran for the hills. It was only after I had climbed half of the man-made steps up the hill that I dared to turn around and scout for the location of the turtle. Apparently the turtle had given up chase the moment we reached the foot of the hill and had headed back to the water. I couldn't really see much from where I was, but I had a feeling my companions may have captured it as it appears to be a rather significant discovery.

Most ppl have heard of the Princess and the Frog story. Bot how many have heard of the Princess and the Turtle? This story is actually the original story, which occurred before the Princess and the Frog story came about.

One day, the Princess was taking a walk in her garden. After a while, she came across a huge bon fire (bear in mind that in those days, the only way to get rid of rubbish was to incinerate it, hence the bon fire in the garden). She was fascinated by it, and decided to take a closer look. But along her path was a turtle, walking very very slowly towards the pond, which incidently was on the same direction as the bon fire. The Princess did not desire to dirty her long skirts by walking on the grass, hence she was reduced to walking at snail's pace behind the turtle.

After a short while, the Princess got very impatient. She found it ridiculous that she, a royalty, was delayed by a lowly turtle. In a fit of anger, she gave the turtle one hard kick, to which the poor turtle found himself in a very unnatural position in the air. Flying. Towards to blazing flames of the bon fire.

The Princess felt rather pleased, now that the path is open to her. She skipped happily towards to fire, just in time to see the turtle roast. The aroma of a roasting turtle was so mouth-watering that it sparked her curiousity. She picked up a long stick and tossed the roasted turtle out of the fire. And had it for breakfast. It was good. So good that she wanted more.

Hence she headed to to Castle pond, where she hoped to find more turtles. There she found a frog instead. Now I am sure u have heard of the Princess and Frog story, but what you need to realise is that there is no where in Heaven, Hell and on Earth will you find ANY girl (much less a Princess) who would kiss a damn frog, even if the damn frog can talk. The only reason why her lips touched that frog was because she couldn't find any turtles, only that damn talking frog. She wanted to taste and see if the frog would be as delicious as the turtle, but to her horror, it turned into a Prince.

The Princess lived happily ever after. TheFrog Prince had to learn how to cook, and serve good breakfasts to the Princess for the rest of his life! (He started to wonder why he wanted to become human in the first place, life was much better and more carefree as a frog!)