Tales II

#1 Tale from the Dojo
There we were, in 2 rows. The first, the attacker, and the other, the being attacked. And there she was - short-haired, slim, wearing a black belt - holding her fists in position, staring into my eyes. Focus, do not tremble, and go - aim at her jaw, look back into her eyes, and another aim at her middle. She moved fast - darted back, swerved to the side, and arghhh... what's that pain on the right side of my abdomen?! Her fist made contact! She retracted, and signalled me to go on. I lunged again - and again she made contact in her counter-attack! My poor side was throbbing with every breath I took. Keep breathing, I told myself, hang on - you'll reach the end of the room soon enough. And we did. But then we had to repeat the sets, reversed roles, back to where we started, and then again, and again! I lost count of the number of punches I sustained - but somehow, my right side was throbbing a little more than the left side. I'm guessing Ms Black Belt is a right-hander.


#2 Tale from the Exam Hall
It was a paper compulsory to be taken by foreign students, and the hall was full of them. It was quite an experience as I'd never encountered international students in such a large number before. They were very different from the local nerds, most notably, in terms of dress and decorum. Some were in formal shirts and slacks, others in T-shirts and short pants. One had a massive head of hair, bigger than Einstein's, several others had hair fully braided. One girl dressed like she was going to a rap concert while another put on 3 inches of make-up and enough perfume so I could smell her from 5 tables away. The worst (some may think on the contrary) was the girl who wore no bra - she bent forward right in front of me to fill up a form, and... I do not think further illustration with words is necessary.

#3 Tale from the Disillusioned
That which you thought were, weren't. That which you thought you saw, was a figment of your imagination. That which you believed was true, became convincingly not with every passing second, as you slowly regained your sensibility. You were certain you had been a fool, and then you weren't. But, surely only fools would've fallen for such a ploy - if indeed it was a ploy. But what if it wasn't, what if it really was sincerity - your thoughts went along the rosy what-ifs for a while, and then you realised - you were a fool all over again. You waited, though you knew it would be in vain - but still you waited, yearning, hoping, breaking your heart. A hopeless romantic, a foolish idealist, drowned in self-imagined indulgence and wishful-thinking - you were lost, and found, and lost, and found again, but lost yet again...