a late night story

As of late (well, 'late' really being a reference to the past year or so) i've come to comprehend my evolution into a class A cynic of life. This has its ups and downs: i'm more sarcastic than ever, which I deem to be fucking atas. I love nothing more than to maul idiotic girls into the ground with runaround circular logic and multisyllabic words which inevitably lead to the entire collapse of whatever point they were trying to put across (and their egos, of course). Then again, I also note that in the endlessly spiralling slope down into decadence and disillusion, I can't seem to locate where i left my heart.

Thereby love and chivalry are dead in the world of wongcheok.

Hurray! We didn't need all that SHIT anyway.

But that's not what I was gonna write about; no, people, it isn't another introspective emo-wannabe post. I know you guys must be fucking sick of all that shit... Well ok, so i think you really aren't; in fact, i betchall'd love to find silly flaws in my person so that YOU ALL CAN MAUL ME TO DEATH LIKE THE RABID TIGERS YOU ARE

Sorry. I digress. Cranky.

Anyhow, why do i bring forth the issue of cynicism? Simply because I know that some of you out there are cynics too. While in general cynicism can be applied to many facilities, the one of particular interest to me now is this: the supernatural.

Do you believe in ghosts? If you don't, you really should.

As y'all know by now, I once had a girlfriend a year or so back (this isn't about her so shut the fuck up if that's what you're thinking. asshole.). I recall that we got together right before I enlisted, which was pretty shitty in retrospect. Nevertheless, things went the way all things of the sort usually do: arguments over time spent together, faux breakups, professions of everlasting love... the works.

So there was this one night whereby i was coping with some really SHIT problems (bitch.), and as all army fellas will know, the constraints of book-in timings are a fuckin' pain-in-the-arse when boy-girl problems crop up: you end up dragging the issue, being miserable in camp, getting cold shoulders.... once again, the works. So i was in this perpetually fucked up mood that night, and it didn't help that as i lay down to sleep my bunkmates so happened to be incredibly gossipy that evening for some fuck reason. This, coupled with a heavy heart and head, inadvertently led to my inability to sleep. I'm sure everyone's experienced it before: tired and drained, yet the mind refuses to rest because of all the shit that's stirring. Pretty much zombie sleep, in a sense. Or half-fuck, for want of a better term.

Plus back then, i slept with my shirt off. Beside the window. In a Tekong company line reputed to be one of the more haunted ones.

Oh, what a fucking bad idea.

I remember it was roughly one in the morning. I was splayed out on the bed in haphazard fashion, drowsy from the forced efforts of closing my eyes and trying to sleep. I felt fucking miserable in my semi-conscious state. And then it hit me: square in the chest, I felt a sudden... force, a pressure which drained the breath from my lungs and seemed to compress me into me.

At this point of time, i'd like to categorically state that this is a true story. It isn't one of those friend's-friend's-friend tales; it fucking happened, and I swear it's true.

So there i was, jolted awake into a sudden state of awareness. My eyes were wide open and i remember that vividly, because with my head on the elevated pillow I could see all my bunkmates sound asleep. But I couldn't move my body at all.

Thing is, stuff like this happens. It wasn't the first time that I'd suddenly been paralyzed while lying down, unable to move an inch. I do think there's a medical phenomena for this, and i recall yahoo-ing for it after this incident; usually after awhile it goes away, and you're pretty much left wondering if all that celibacy was such a good idea after all. Or something along those lines.

Stuck in bed, happened before... Shouldn't be a problem, right? Not this time, mate. I instinctively felt the difference of the paralysis from its predecessors; for one thing, I certainly didn't remember an accompanying feeling of being compressed into myself as a side-effect. If you've ever wondered how being vacuum-packed feels, i'll tell you one thing: it sucks. It felt so goddamned freakish and unnatural, and I began to royally FLIP THE FUCK OUT.

This was bad. I could tell at that very moment that there was something else in me... and I didn't like it one bit. 'This can't be happening, this can't be happening' thoughts played like a tape recorder on overdrive in my mind, and i struggled to call out to my sleeping buddy beside me for help.

It's when a guttural growl emerged from my lips that I really began praying for mercy.

I swear it's fucking true. On my life. It is not the least bit funny when you speak and you don't hear your voice. Worst still, it wasn't even human.

I prayed like i'd never prayed before. One line: "Dear God PLEASE HELP ME." Non-stop.

This carried on for a good minute. Or it might've been ten seconds; i'll never really know. It seemed like a eternity, and it didn't help that just 2 batches of recruits earlier somebody had been possessed in the very same company-line. What I do know, however, is that very, very slowly the pressure began to ease.

The struggle continued until I successfully managed to move my last finger on my left hand ever so slightly. The moment that happened, I brought my left arm straight across my chest, and suddenly I was free.

I bolted upright, cold sweat soaking my body in a sheen of perspiration. I spun to my left and roused my buddy, Weiliang. The moment he saw me, he knew that something was wrong; when I asked him later, he told me this: "Lionel, for 2 months you've never even woken me to go to the toilet, and I know you're the garang type who doesn't get freaked out easily. And when i saw your face that night, I just knew something had happened."

Weiliang immediately roused Boon, who was bed 9 (I was bed 7), and they were alarmed at the story I told them. Perhaps it was the wild-eyed look on my face, or my sweat-bathed self, which convinced them straightaway that I wasn't playing a fool that night.

A week later, during our 16km route march, Jess remarked that on that very same night his bed had shook. I hadn't told him about my experience; it was just casual small talk during our rest stop.

Jess was in platoon one; I was in two. He sleeps directly below me.

Honest, folks: the supernatural does exist. I'm not lying to you on this. And think about it: by simple inference higher powers must also exist, and likewise perhaps even the concepts of Divinity and Evil. Depends on how far you can fling the frisbee, so to speak.

I don't know if my story changes your life. Maybe it won't change anything at all. But... just be careful with the unknown, y'know? If you haven't seen it before, it don't mean it ain't there beside you.

Right. This. Instant.