Creative Hall

There I was, standing in front of a bookshelf in a bookstore of a mall on what seemed to be a lazy Sunday afternoon, as the store workers were either idly meddling with their little oblong screens as they stared into it with droopy eyes, or simply deep within the dreams of an afternoon nap, drool seeping its way down the side of their mouths. The store itself wasn’t crowded; a couple of children with their parents – worn, exhausted and withering like ghastly undead cadavers (which is unsurprising considering they were very likely soaked in a midlife crisis), browsing the stationery section or in a panic looking for materials for a last minute school project; and a few others, like me, trapped in ‘decision-making purgatory’ within the aisles of the endless labyrinth of bookshelves.

There, standing behind my father, steadfast in her beauty and in her support of my father alike, is my mother. It’s not her that I’m taken aback by, it’s the boy next to her. He’s the spitting image of Mr Boyd, this boy, with the same obsidian eyes and platinum blonde hair. He smiles directly at the corner, cool and close-lipped. “That – that’s me,” I say.

“But something felt amiss. The trees were watching. It wasn’t long before she realised they were everywhere. Some were hanging from the branches while others were embedded into the trunks, glowing a dim eerie light that scattered like orbs throughout the dark.”

Written by Ng Li Wei - “I know you.” It’s night-time. A moon has risen over the dimly lit streets and several pedestrians are hurrying home, glancing fearfully up at the thundering sky. A bell rings - a customer entering a convenience store. A boy looks left and right and behind him before he crosses the road - not to look out for cars, but to make sure no one’s following him. Soft music gently bubbles through the air from a cafe and the sound of clinking glasses along with loud, unruly cheers erupt from a nearby bar. The owner of a bookstore is sitting by the counter......

Written by Koh Ze-Wen
Arin woke to pouring rain. It sounded like someone was trying to drown the world in rain, which she respected, as a college student who had an 8am class. Still, if she didn’t get that sweet sweet 80 percent attendance, she wouldn’t even have the opportunity to flunk out of Physics. Lost in thought, she dumped her bag on her seat and was suddenly and rudely acquainted with someone’s butt on her desk. “Excuse me,” she said to the butt in question. “Hey,” the owner of the butt said. He looked vaguely hungover, and he was dressed in a varsity jacket and skinny jeans. Which was interesting, because their college didn’t have sports teams with varsity jackets, which meant he had possibly acquired......