*Ini bukan blog sastera, bukan blog berbentuk profesional, dan bukan blog yang dicipta sebagai pautan buat seorang penulis baru dengan pembaca*Ruang ini dicipta oleh seorang manusia yang mahu mindanya dianalisasi
*Tatabahasanya mungkin tidak cantik
*Jiwa sasteranya mungkin tidak gah*Bagi NURUL SYAHIDA penulisannya adalah produk jiwa yang gila*
Maka dia cuma mahu membicarakan kegilaan*
Jika anda seorang yang berjiwa linear, lupakan blog ini
Tag Me
Stuffs
Published Work:
Apa Pendapat King tentang Writing
"...These stories felt show-offy rather than entertaining, self-important rather than interesting, guarded and self-conscious rather than gloriously open, and worst of all, written for editors and teachers rather than for readers. The chief reason for all this, I think, is that bottom shelf. It's tough for writers to write (and editors to edit) when faced with a shrinking audience..." -Stephen King-
She stares right into the building, gazing its architecture, from the entrance, to the magnificent height of the premise.
And suddenly she felt terrified. Nervous. Excited. All fused into one confused concoction of mixed emotion. If she enters the building, the security guard will absolutely ask about her health. She will press the elevator button and it will open and she will see Dana coming out and smiling at her, enquiring after Adam.
She's home, and she felt hostile about it. This is a huge mistake. She shouldn't have. She should have let Ann go instead. She didn't know what she was thinking earlier, returning to this place.
Emma sighs.
I'm here, might as well suck it up... And thus she swallowed all the feelings and makes the first step inside.
And she saw Robert, the friendly security officer, his back on her, speaking to a guy she never met before. And before Emma gets the chance to move away, he turns and she was a bit surprised to see that it isn't Robert. The guy approaches her, smiling altogether.
"Can I help you miss?" "I'm... sorry, where's Robert?" she asks. "Robert?" "The security guy before you." "Oh, Robbie? He resigned two weeks ago. I'm Dean. You are...?" "Oh, Emma. I used to live here. I'm here to see...."
My ex-husband... My soon-to-be ex-boss... The guy who was once the reason for living
"... a sick friend. Adam? He lives on 16th." She finally answers. Dean nods without much interest. He is way different from Robert, who would have enquire more about Adam's health, or even Emma's. But then again, why would this guy bother? They don't even know each other. The door to the elevator pings and opens slowly, and Emma enters, without thinking of saying goodbye to Dean. It's not important as the guy also went the opposite way even before she left. Emma pushes the button and the door closed again. For a while she was serenaded by the jingle inside the elevator and it reminded her of those days where she used to hum to the song every single day before going to work. Then the jingle stopped, and the door opens, still slowly, to show a long lifeless corridor. Emma walks out the door, hand still clutching her bag. Her heart beats harder than she ever felt so. She can see the door to his place. THEIR place, once upon a time. Ten steps more and she will be in front of the door, and she will ring the doorbell and Adam will welcome her inside the place she once loved. And so she did. The bell rung twice before the door clicked and swayed open, and Adam's surprised face looking at her. "Em-" "You called in sick. Wanna let me in?" she couldn't be more straightforward. Adam refrained himself from smiling, and gives a room for Emma to walk inside. She took a deep breath before entering. "Emma, I'm so happy that you are..." "I'm going to make you a soup. Go lie down." She said, as she nonchalantly takes off her jacket and hangs it inside the closet next to the door. It brought another smile to Adam's face, as he saw her moving so ceaselessly around the place. But he was afraid to comment about it and so quietly went to the living room and sat down, and stares at her while she walks to the kitchen and taking out stuff from the cabinet. "You still have the disgusting tomato puree inside the fridge? Throw it away, Adam." He can hear her from the living room, making her way towards the trash can and dumping lots of items from the fridge inside it. "Where's the pack of... owh..." her voice trails off. Emma bites her lip. Everything is as the way it has always been. Her favourite pot is still inside the second shelf, where it's nearer to the sink. The bottom drawer still kept all her favourite spices, in an arranged order.
