. save the pig .

  I was in a hospital. It was clean and bright and bustling with people. I found myself in the lobby where there was a long line of people at the front counter. I think I was a temp or a nurse, dressed in the green hospital uniform but I don’t remember what I was supposed to do. Then all of a sudden the person at the end of the line started scratching incessantly. He couldn’t stop, and the itch spread to the person in front of him, and then jumped to the person in front of that person, till the whole line was scratching themselves all over. Something contagious had spread, and the hospital went into lockdown, quarantining everyone who had contracted this strange chicken-pox-looking skin disease.

  The hospital director assigned this case to a well respected doctor and he discovered that the disease started because of a pig that was brought into the hospital. The pig was something of a sports mascot and was pretty famous, so no one thought it odd that it would get special treatment from one of the most renowned doctors in town. The doctor carried the pig and took it straight away to surgery.

  Time passed and I wondered what surgery was actually taking place as it took so long. Finally the doctor came out of the room, looking stern and cold as ever. He saw me and told me that the surgery was successful but the pig didn’t survive. It was my job to dispose the body and clean up the theatre room. As I entered the theatre, I saw the body of a pig on its back, with its body cut up and mangled from the inside, with blood dripping from its intestines. But the more I inspected it, the more I realised that this was not the same pig.

  It turns out that I had been taking care of the pig for a while so I was suspicious as to why the doctor would lie and switch the pig bodies. I grew upset knowing the pig was still under my responsibility, so I went to look for it. I discovered another hidden theatre room where the real pig laid, on the operating table, on its back, and its stomach was also cut open. But it was more horrible when I found out that it was still alive and slowly coming into consciousness. As if the doctor purposely did not apply enough anaesthetic so that the pig could feel pain throughout the procedure.

  I was furious! But I didn’t know what to do. I wanted to find that doctor and kick his ass, but the first thing I was did was go downstairs to find a veterinary doctor (don’t ask why they would be in the same hospital building). I knocked on the door and entered to find an Indian woman by the name of Dr. Kreegul Gurgess. I knew she was a great and kind animal doctor so I explained to her the situation and rushed to my aid upstairs. She also let me know that we would definitely get the doctor back for what he did.

The only thing I can think about from this is that ANIMAL RIGHTS PEOPLE. THEY CAN FEEL PAIN TOO. I really don’t like people who hurt, kill and abuse animals just for the fun of it. I’d cast them in the Twilight zone where animals ruled the earth and used humans for lobotomy tests.

Also, there is this misconception, not only in non-muslims, but in muslims themselves that just because pigs and dogs are regarded as impure, we have to treat them badly. Since when are we ever encouraged to treat another creation badly?? Just because we have to wash our body parts or any object that’s made contact with pigs and dog’s saliva 7 times, we have to condemn the creatures to pain and misery?? COME ON PEOPLE. THINK.

. 28.11.12 Nobody .

  Her eyes are a dark, dull silver pair, and they stare at you lifeless, like the eyes of a dead fish. Her hair is raven and forever trailing in the wind, and her ends disappear with every gust that stirs. Her dress reminds you of the mist, and sometimes you wonder if that was all she was, and if she was ever there.

  She likes to walk around at night, barefoot across roads and roads of cobblestoned streets. And sometimes, if you listen real hard, you can almost hear the pitter-patter of ghostly feet. Like a child, she is forever curious of the world around her; the sensations about her that she can no longer feel or taste or touch. She likes to follow you around, even if you never notice her; even if your eyes will never meet hers. It hasn’t stopped her before.

  Animals take notice of her. Some are frightened, while others grow familiar with her kind presence. She becomes nothing more than a shadow that accompanies them on their rounds. If she had a companion, it would seem to be a particular, black cat, plump in figure with emerald eyes bejewelling its round face. They walk side-by-side down the cobblestone path in the early mornings, before the milkman arrives with its breakfast.

  Most people never see her, and she doesn’t mind. She doesn’t mind anything anymore. She just is. And that is all she will be. Though sometimes she takes pleasure in being noticed once in a while. More than once, her misty frame has caught the glance of a child or two and they always stare at her in awe. Their eyes tell her they’re frightened of her dead-fish pair and her ghostly figure, and all she does in return is smile, with a single finger to her pale lips. Her raven hair twists and turns in the wind and across her face.

This Dream was neither sad nor scary. Just a short narrative of a girl ghost who walked through the streets, still observing the lives of the living and existing with the simple pleasures she has left. Like making friends with a single black cat (which was awfully cute by the way). I called this Dream ‘Nobody’ because it reminded me a lot of Nobody Owens, the ghostly boy from the Graveyard Book; one of my faves by Neil Gaiman.

. 27.11.12 the suitors .

  It’s the late 1900’s, like a set straight out of Pride and Prejudice and I am a Bystander in this Dream. There’s a dinner party going on and the center of attention is a lovely lady with dark hair in a pearl coloured gown. She in enchanting and is the focus of all men around her, especially these two. One had silver hair, tied into a neat ponytail, and was dressed in rich, navy blue attire with golden trimmings. Compared to the other gentleman, he looked like he was of the higher social status. The other man was just as handsome, had dark brown hair tied into a ponytail as well, though it was a little shorter. His clothes were rich as well, but plain in comparison to the first gentleman.

  For simplicity’s sake, I’ll name the two men. The one with white hair will be Frederick and the one with brown hair will be David. Frederick was an aristocrat who had his eyes on the lovely lady for a while and has asked her hand for marriage once, but she had turned him down. However that didn’t stop him from seeing her every chance he got. He attended social gatherings and dinner parties, only if she was too invited. Unknown to him, the reason she rejected him the first time was because she had already her heart set on a childhood love, David.

  David was from a wealthy family too but was a working man and earned his living, while Frederick was born from old money. He and the girl knew each other for longer a time than Frederick. Frederick was always wary of David, but he was envious of anyone was closer to the lady than he was. That dinner party however, David made a special announcement. He proposed to the girl there and then and, flustered and blushing, the girl accepted. Everyone cheered and was overjoyed, and congratulated the two. And Frederick seethed in a corner by himself.

  The Dream then shifts and takes us to another time where Frederick is with David, alone in a library or study room. This is where David tells Frederick of his story, of how he and the girl were friends from childhood and how naturally their love for one another blossomed. It was obvious to David that Frederick was jealous, as they bantered sarcastic remarks over petty, unrelated issues. But what he didn’t know was how well Frederick’s hatred had rooted every since the night of the dinner party. David was too proud over the fact that he had won her hand instead, but he failed to remain alert. As they bantered, David stayed seated in the comfortable armchair while Frederick walked idly about the bookcases around the room.

  Where he was able to point a pistol at David’s head and shoot him point-blank from behind.

Jealousy and hate make men into terrible things. This was just so sad, I don’t even know. I bet Frederick went insane and got himself caught and thrown into an asylum, where he grew into a psychotic, fuelled by the delusion that he’ll have the girl fall in love with him no matter what the cost. God, that’d make a creepy movie. Wonder if it’s already been done before...