Friday, 24 May 2013

Short Story - Do U Know How Many Roses Does a Women Need?

i wrote short stories as a hobby of sort. Started this after reading Catcher In The Rye in 2009 after resigning from the Dubai job.

this short story is something i wrote in 2009. then in 2012, met online a gentleman by the nickname Lucifer ( and gave him this story along with other articles which i gave to him under ‘anonymous’. Decided to publish it in this blog, as I’m writing a short story as well at this present time.


Firdaus Mike May 13, 2009

New-rene always spends time in the UM park. She remembers the way to the park, the way in the park and the way out of the park.

She remembers the park like a book.

If she got blindfolded, she could easily went round and round and out of the park, without hitting any trees, stones or obstacles.

 It’s been too long damn years she went to that bloody park.

But this time around, she went to the park with sudden urge in her blood racing her passion.
She miss him. She miss him sorely. She miss his face, that dearest face, that face she ever love for all that she ever cares.

She usually arrive at the park on a slightly late evening.

She often spends the time looking onto her reflection on the water.

It was yesterday she remember one story Zira told her quite long time ago.

Newrene : Hey Zira, what are you reading there?

Zira : Newrene, do you know the story of Narcissus?
It was this story of a very beautiful child, Narcissus, who is very beautiful
that everyone sees will feel so tender to him. He was so beautiful and lovely that one day, a timid and shy angel fell in love with him. Her name was Echo. But Narcissus, knowing he had this beautiful look, hurtfully rejected Echo.

Narcissus had played with her affection, so much that Echo prays with her cries,

“oh God, let Narcissus fall in love with another, but unable to gain his loved ones”.

And so one day, Narcissus went to a pond of water, he wanted to quench his thirst, and suddenly fell in love with a shadow of himself. And somehow, he was too astounded by his reflection, not moving nor eating nor drinking for days, that in the end he was dead, sitting down looking at his own beautiful reflection.

Newrene look upon the reflection in the water.
She couldn’t see her reflection.
All she could see is his face.
That dearest face of his.
Those angeleyes.

Icicles melt in her eyes.
Teardrops flows from her eyes down to her cheek.
She missed him sorely.

Her thought flows emotionless to that break-up time.
The same teardrop on the heat of a confession she once had.

Ex-fiance : Please, I have to go. You have to let me go.
She’s waiting for me there.
 I’m sorry but I have to go.

He let go of her hand.
Her hand drops dead and cold.
Under the spell of a break-up, her hand, her teary eyes, her heart all drop dead and cold.

She shouldn’t have look deep into those angeleyes of his.
Her heart drop dead and cold looking at those beautiful reflection of yesterdays.
Sometime she wishes she could drown there, like old poor Narcissus.

Everybody in the goddam Department notices Newrene’s eerie behaviour of walking around the park after work,
ever since she came back from her Masters study in Australia.

It was around that time however, my friend from the good old folks, Nash, took an interest in jogging.

Mickey : What? I suppose that we have a football game today. You want to change plans to go out jogging instead?

Nash : I don’t know Mickey. I guess football is too tough for my crippling legs. You know I once hospitalised for this injury, didn’t you? Hell, you were the one who sent me to UMMC, you forget ah, old Gorilla?

I just let it go. Swell, I don’t wanna waste time arguing with Nash. it’s tiring
to argue with someone who have Masters from Australia, they will always attack you back with facts.

It was after few days that I realised the timing for old Nash evening jog perfectly coincides with the time Newrene spends the time in the park sulking. i guess stars in heavens above does have a perfect constellation, perfectly aligning each other, just the way Nash and Newrene does.

And perfect aligning that was, when one day, Nash turns up in the room with a bouquet of roses.

Mickey : I suppose those roses are needed to supply you oxygen while you’re jogging ah?

Nash : Mickey, give me a break.

Mickey : It’s pretty weird for a guy to go for jogging to bring those anyway.
Anyway, if you want to bring that, you don’t need to bring that much.
Women does not need that much of roses, you know.

Nash : what do you mean? how many roses does a women need anyway?

Mickey : I won’t tell you how many. (I wouldn’t know either for godsake)

It was unlucky for Nash that day, he forgotten to bring those roses. He was pretty late for his usual evening jog though. He had trouble, as I accidentally put a glue in his hair gel. He always gel his hair when he went to those evening jogs.

It turns out it was unluckier for Nash the day after.

Somehow out of a blue, there turns out to be another Newrene’s admirer.
And this idiot somehow bend his knees and produce a bouquet of flower to her, in front of everybody in the goddam Eng. Fac. canteen. The situation normally occurs in Korean TV series, I presume.
To be honest, it was a sore sight.

Idiot : I don’t mean to embarass you or what. I’m really sorry for it.
Please don’t misunderstand me, Miss. I hope I don’t sound desperate.
 I suppose I am, really.

That dickhead turns out to be one of the most idiotic students in Eng. Fac.

Newrene politely reject the invitation. Everybody in this planet earth, except that moron, knew exactly what Newrene was feeling. It was embarassing, of course. She just wished that idiot had never been born.

No, women does not need a bouquet of flowers given to her at a stinking canteen. Noted.

If I was Newrene, I guess I would probably drop dead.

Nash almost give up knowing the news. Somehow, I suspiciously suspected he might do the same.
I think it was lucky his attempted self-assassination didn’t take place.
I wouldn’t told them he was a friend of mine if anybody asks.

Nash and I had dinner that night, and somehow we were watching this scene from a movie in the Mamak stall.
The movie was “Fall”.
There’s a scene in the movie, where the hero sends 1000 red roses to the heroine.
Oh great.

We procede next morning with that moronic idea.
It should be fun I guess, what the hell.

I called this shop in Kajang, where dear Mother always buys roses for herself at every lovely occasion she can think of. I manage to get a discount. Oh, this roses affair is making a big hole in our wallet. Basket.

We came out that night, with 1000 flowers, decorating the room for Masters student.
We placed roses here and there. If we had a ladder, we might glue it to the ceiling for godsake.
I even had an idea of becoming a red roses decorator for newly weds for future plans.
Damn, I should stick to engineering for godsake.

Nothing happens the next day. Newrene had a MC. I guess she still couldn’t stop vomitting after that red roses incident. Ah hell, I pity her as I wonder what’ll happen to her if she sees this.

The fact is, nothing happens either the next day. Newrene hardly notices the flowers when she enters the room.
old Nash has given up by this time really.
1000 flowers didn’t do the trick.
I guess we could not claim the money from the Dept for the red roses decoration of the Masters student room.

Time passes by, day by day, months by months.
She still sulks.

Then one day, I think God is sympathetic enough to answer our question, and probably wanted to stop that eerie sight of a girl sulking at the lake of UM park.

We received an e-mail from our friends the old folks.
To be honest, it was nothing grand.
It was just a picture of a hamster wearing a hat made from red rose.
It was lovely and cute for the feminist.

I don’t know what happens, but old Newrene laugh madly when she sees that picture.
She says it was cute and funny.
We were dumbfounded anyway.
But as friends, we were glad.
It was the first laugh that she had for months.
At least in front of us.
When she smiles that time, I couldn’t help but noticed both her eyes sparkled.
It was full of light.

She did stop going for her eerie walk at the park that day onwards.
I guess the sulking did stop.

And from the day onwards, everybody who enters the Masters Room couldn’t help but noticed
Newrene’s computer desktop.
It was that picture of a red rose glued to a head of a poor hamster.

And to the question, how many roses does a women need?
The fact is, the numbers doesn’t even counts.
Just enough roses to stop icicles melt from their eyes, I guess.