Timed Writing 1 – Feelings of a Song

It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad World

"All around me are familiar faces

Worn out places, worn out faces

Bright and early for the daily races

Going nowhere, going nowhere

Their tears are filling up their glasses

No expression, no expression

Hide my head I wanna drown my sorrow

No tomorrow, no tomorrow

And I find it kind of funny, I find it kind of sad

The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had

I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take

When people run in circles it’s a very, very

Mad world, mad world…"

With an evocative lyric, “Mad World” by Roland Orzabal has obsessed me for quite a long time.

Eyes closed, I imagine a bleak surreal painting touching the tip of my nose. Reality and dream

intertwine in their inseparable waltz. The places we know so well suddenly turn strange as the

parade of poker faces are floating by. The desperate sighs (“Going nowhere, going nowhere”;

“No tomorrow, no tomorrow”), accompanied by the slow tempo, connote the monotonic life of

the workaholics, who I’d love to call “the miserable paranoiacs”. They race their asses off

without a single destination. Race for the sake of racing.

Here in the Modernization prison, people do everything to get what they want, only to end up

forgetting their inmost raison d’être. In retrospect, I have been very much like the narrator of this

song at some points of my life, struggling to escape from this cannibalistic world. I’m scared of

the psychiatric hospital we all fall prey to. If I were to be born again, I wouldn’t choose to be born

human. A wind, a blink, or any ephemeral soul, but not human. Maybe you think I’m mad. Or

maybe I really am. The surreal word picture, then, comes alive.

Timed Writing 2 – Reporting a Fairytale

Atlantic Idol 2013 Contracts Unheard-of Disease

Right after the leak of Atlantic Idol 2013 Ariel’s secret photos on Facebook yesterday, her fan

page was engulfed by millions of controversial comments from her fans and anti-fans. These

seemingly casual photos wouldn’t have stirred as much publicity had leggy Ariel not revealed

her abnormal lower limbs full of scales.

King Triton, Ariel’s father-cum-manager, said: “Ariel is undergoing a hard time in her life. I

believe everyone who has witnessed my daughter’s ceaseless effort in the showbiz so far

wouldn’t turn their backs on her after this incident. I also hope this unwanted disease won’t

affect her Atlantic Idol title.”

Sebastian, Ariel’s private doctor, revealed: “Ariel is the first patient ever of her own disease. No

identical case has been recorded in the medical history so far. We’re trying our best to figure out

the cause of this abnormal phenomenon. The only thing I can confirm now is that she needs to

take a long hiatus.”

All the banners of Ariel’s live show outside Ocean Stadium were removed and replaced with

gigantic pictures of diva Ursula-the-Sea-Witch, Ariel’s mentor in the audition round.

Timed Writing 3 - Microfiction

Sunrise Battlefield

“Fire the hole!” shouts the commander, husky voice. Grenades explode one after another,

louder than anything on earth that can resonate. He rolls from one side of the terrain to another,

trying to reach a machine that, he believes, can help him save the world. “Boom”. All of the

sudden, his limbs freeze. So do his eyes. He falls deep into the well of unconsciousness. It’s

painful to give up something when you’re about to grasp it. Just like Phuc, who struggles every

morning to turn off the “Call of Duty” alarm ringtone of his cellphone.

(96 words)