The Green-Walled Tower

July 22, 2013

Alone on a Boat – Part 5

This is Part 5 of a collaborative story between myself and Sharmishtha Basu. First of all, my apologies for it being posted so late in the day. I committed to posting my part every Monday. However, this weekend has been a bit busy and I am so tired that it wears at the creative engine a bit.

In case you’re behind on the story, our heroine Angelique has been kidnapped and brought to a temple in the jungle by two men. They are going to sacrifice her to get through a door to steal a large diamond. However, a huge tentacled monster attacks them before they can.

Sharmishtha has posted all the previous installments here.

Alone on a Boat – Part 5

Angelique ran.

Unseen branches and leaves stretched across her path, slapping her and entangling her arms. She forced her way through, just trying to get as far away as she could from the dark temple behind her and the screams that still echoed through her mind.

There was a sudden splash and she plunged up to her knees in cool wetness. She was standing in a stream and along its course, she could see a narrow slit of sky and a full moon rising over the trees.

She had totally lost her bearings in the dark jungle, but a stream had to lead down to the coast and that was where her boat was. She set out, splashing through the water, and feeling with her sneakers for large rocks on the bottom.

If it wasn’t for the glimmer of the moon on the water, Angelique would never have seen the edge of the small waterfall that plunged into darkness. She stopped and listened, trying to determine how far the water fell. The jungle seemed to have gone silent and only the faint tinkle of the stream could be heard.

As she was hesitating, trying to decide the best course to take, a strange, melancholy whistle came from the water below her. It came again and she looked over, trying to see if it was an animal. She saw a point of pale luminescence in the water, by the base of the falls and as she watched, it grew and spread out over the water. A bubble formed on top and expanded and stretched into the grotesque form of a slimy homunculus. It continued to grow and then slowly began to move up the waterfall towards her.

Angelique was gripped with terror and turned and ran back up the stream. She was vaguely aware that she was running back towards the temple, but at that moment, the only thing that mattered to her was to get away from that luminous goblin that was slowly climbing up the waterfall.

Time lost all meaning as she splashed through the water, tripping and stumbling on stones and trying not to fall. Suddenly she ran into something wide and yielding that was stretched across the stream. For a moment, she thought it was a huge spiderweb and it was all she could do to keep from screaming. It wasn’t sticky though and she realized that it was a net.

A voice came out of the darkness near her, speaking an unknown language.

“Hello?” she said after a moment.

“Ah, you speak English,” the voice said. “Come out of the water; you will damage my nets.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see them,” she said.

“I wouldn’t think so, nor do the bats that get caught in them.” Angelique had the idea that the speaker was an old man. A moment later, he uncovered an oil lamp and she saw her guess was right.

“Now,” he said. “What are you doing here at this hour? A lost tourist, perhaps?”

“I was kidnapped,” Angelique said, “and taken to a temple by two men.” She told him about the tentacle monster in the temple and the luminous creature on the water.

She saw the man’s face become serious just before he covered the lamp again and they were plunged back into blackness. She felt him take her hand.

“Come,” he whispered. “This is no night for mortals like us to be outside. Great and dangerous forces have been awakened. We must hurry.”

(to be continued…)

6 Comments | tags: adventure, Andaman Islands, collaborative writing, fantasy, fiction, kidnapping, monsters, mythology, treasure | posted in Dusk

July 21, 2013

What is “masochism” in Korean?

By David Stewart

So what kind of a masochist would voluntarily take a 3-hour language exam for fun? Yeah…

I have returned to the land of blogging after several weeks of mostly absence, a lot of which was due to the fact that I was studying for a large Korean exam known as TOPIK, or Test of Proficiency in Korean. As of today, it is finally over. It is quite difficult and by the third hour, it gets very exhausting. I did it mostly to have some idea of my skill level and to have something to show others, maybe even for a job later. So, it wasn’t really for fun, but it doesn’t have any immediate impact on my life.

The test is divided into two parts with a break in the middle: the first is grammar, vocabulary and writing, including writing an essay. The second part is listening and reading. I took this same test about 4 years ago and at that time, I did terrible on the grammar and actually pretty good on the listening. This time was the opposite (at least how I felt about it; we’ll see in a few weeks). The hardest questions were in the writing section. They write a paragraph and leave out a phrase, which you have to fill in from context. No multiple choice, no hints. I call them the widowmakers. Here’s an example:

See what I mean? Hard.

It may not be evident to people in North America or Europe, but Korean is becoming a very popular language of study, especially in Asia, and so this is a pretty popular test. I live in a relatively small city in Korea and there were over 1100 people who took it today. Mostly Chinese, but also a lot from almost every other country in central and east Asia, plus a smattering from other countries as well. Anyway, now I’m going to forget about studying Korean for a while and get back to writing.

By the way, you may have noticed that I never answered the question in the title: what is “masochism” in Korean? There are two answers. One is a loanword: “mae-jeo-ki-jeom” (which sounds a bit like “magic kissing”) and the longer “pi-hak-seong byeon-tae seong-yok” which is literal translation of exactly what masochism is. So there you have it: go wow your friends.

This was one of the first results when I did a Google Image search for “Korean masochism” although it was due to this post

12 Comments | tags: Korea, Korean, language, masochism, test, TOPIK | posted in Korea

July 17, 2013

Moon Cycle – Friday Fictioneers

By David Stewart

Moon Cycle

No one ever told me just how big space is. I mean, I can see the moon every night. It’s right there. So why is it so hard to reach?

I had an epiphany one night after I’d taken some mysterious pills I found on the road: why not make a bicycle-powered spaceship? It’d save on rocket fuel and once you’re in zero-gee, it’s like going downhill the whole way.

I made it through the atmosphere, but now I’ve been pedaling for a week and the moon doesn’t look any bigger. Maybe I should stick it in a higher gear.

62 Comments | tags: bicycle, fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, funny, idiocy, moon, science fiction, space | posted in Light

July 15, 2013

Alone on a Boat – Part 3

By David Stewart

This is Part 3 of a collaborative story between myself and Sharmishtha Basu. It’s a bit difficult to name stories that are written in this way, since the authors have different ideas of where it will go (my last story written like this was simply called “The Adventure” since I had no idea what was going to happen.) Anyway, you will notice that the main character, Angelique, is now neither alone, or on a boat. But that’s life. Here is Part 1 and Part 2, if you missed them.

Alone on a Boat – Part 3

Angelique lay on the cabin floor with her hands tied behind her back and felt the boat slow. They must have reached the island. Now the two kidnappers would take her ashore, and if they had been telling the truth, they would kill her.

She thought of what her father had said before she had left, when he had pulled her aside during the farewell celebration. “You’re a strong girl,” he said. “You can do this. But know that at some point, you will get into trouble. It’s inevitable on a voyage this long. At some point, your engine will break, or you will be robbed or you might get lost. I hope and pray that when it comes, it will be minor. Still, be expecting trouble, be resourceful, and most of all, don’t be afraid to call for help.”

He had given her an emergency distress beacon. It was in the drawer by her bed—five meters away at most, but could she get there without them noticing? Slowly, she crept across the floor and opened the drawer. The drawer was packed with small items, but her probing hands soon found the plastic rectangle that was the transmitter.

“What are you doing?” Tom was standing in the doorway, frowning at her.

“Just . . . water . . .” she said. He strode across and put his hand into the drawer. A second later, he pulled out a jackknife with a triumphant look.

“Nice try, but we’re here now. Come on, get up.” Angelique forced herself to her feet, the small emergency transmitter clenched in her fist.

The light was fading as they came out on deck. The boat was anchored in a small inlet. Henry was already lowered her small dingy into the water.

When they got onshore, Henry led the way into the jungle, shining a flashlight ahead of them. Bats were flying in the trees above them and bird cries echoed through the dusky foliage.

“It’s gotta be around here somewhere,” Henry said. He was cutting through the underbrush with a machete, leading them further and further in. Mosquitoes whined and bit Angelique, delighting in her inability to fight back.

A few times, Tom and Henry stopped and stood close together, talking quietly and shining the light on an old scrap of paper that Tom carried. Hours went by and the forest descended into pitch blackness. Weird sounds came from the darkness.

Henry was chopping at vines over his head when there was a loud ting! of metal hitting stone and sparks flew from the machete blade.

“We got it,” Henry said, his voice trembling with excitement. “Here’s the southern arch.” He shone the light up and Angelique saw an ivy-covered arch of carved stone. Just above her, the face of a fierce Hindu goddess glared down at her.

Tom unscrewed the cap of a water bottle and tipped it up for her to drink. “Your part’s almost here, but I figured you’d be thirsty anyway. Call me soft-hearted.” He laughed.

Angelique looked into the eyes of the man who was planning on sacrificing her soon—ending her young life, all for the sake of a treasure. She spat the water back in his face.

(to be continued…)

8 Comments | tags: adventure, Andaman Islands, castaway, collaborative writing, fiction, Indian Ocean, kidnapping, sailing, solo voyage, treasure | posted in Dusk

July 13, 2013

Super Soldier Mosquitoes

By David Stewart

In general, I really like living in the future. Except for all the car-sized mosquitoes buzzing around. That is not as cool.

It all started with the super soldiers. Of course, here in the future “super soldier” has become a catchphrase for anything cool. “Hey, that was a real supersoldier movie last night.” “That girl is really supersoldiering.”

Except this time, it really had to do with super soldiers. The problem started with the drones. After drones became commonplace, every country had them and suddenly war became very easy and not that costly. One country’s robots fought another country’s robots and every else sat home and watched it on the evening news. The public began to feel that the government was making war too frivolous, now that they could have a war whenever they wanted to. The military just felt left out.

However, by that point war had progressed far beyond human capabilities, so they turned to super soldiers. Using cloning and genetic manipulation, they made a whole new type of soldier. They were egalitarian about it: there were super cooks, super MPs, super aircraft mechanics, every kind of soldier you could think of.

This was all well and good, but no one really knew what the effects of all this new cloning would be. Some thought that the super infantrymen would go rogue and start shooting up civilians, while the super cooks would take the Food Network by storm. Instead, one super soldier got bitten by a mosquito.

It turns out it wasn’t an ordinary mosquito. Its mother had bitten a cow that had been eating genetically modified corn and being pumped full of steroids, so the blood was a real stew of steroids, hormones and Franken-DNA. Then when the young mosquito took in that sweet super soldier blood, it started to get bigger. And bigger. The first time a monstrous mosquito swooped down and sucked all the blood out of a running back during the Super Bowl, it made quite an impression on people. Stocks in Raid and Amalgamated Swatters, Inc. went through the roof.

It hasn’t really affected daily life much. In the cities, there are anti-aircraft RAID guns set up, and most people have catapult-sized fly swatters on their cars.

What I really miss is hiking and camping. Now, if I want to go camping, I need to bring along a Kevlar tent and a dog I don’t really like, and just hope for the best.

Giant mosquitoes suck.

10 Comments | tags: cloning, creepy, drones, fiction, genetic mutation, military, mosquito, science fiction, super soldiers | posted in Light

July 12, 2013

Alone on a boat Part II

By David Stewart

Here is Part 2 of the story that I began on Monday, “Alone on a Boat”. This is written by my friend, Sharmishtha Basu. She posted my part as well, so scroll down if you’ve read my first part already.

Thoughts

The tangy sea-spray smelled like freedom to Angelique as she stepped out onto the deck. Dawn was close and the lightening sky promised a beautiful day to come.

She was only twenty and sailing around the world on her own. Her yachting father who had taught her to sail had tried halfheartedly to talk her out of the idea. Her superstitious mother would not let herself give voice to all the terrible scenarios in her mind, but she finally said, “Won’t you be lonely all by yourself?”

Ha! There was plenty of excitement, fatigue, terror, even boredom, but never loneliness. How could she feel lonely sailing her own craft across an ocean of white-flecked sapphire, with seabirds crying above her and fish flashing silver as they leaped around her bow?

It had been a month after she had set out from Lisbon, and she was now anchored in a deserted…

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3 Comments | posted in Uncategorized

July 10, 2013

The Devil Guards My Wife – Friday Fictioneers

By David Stewart

This is my 32nd Friday Fictioneers in a row. I love doing them and I like the challenge of coming up with a unique story every week. Still, I keep thinking I need a break from blogging for a while. I was planning on doing it next week, since I have a big Korean test coming up, but I think I’ll hold off for a while. Blogging is addictive, I tell you. Also, last week I got nailed with a cold for a couple of days, so I apologize that I could not read as many of the other Fictioneers stories as I would have liked.

The Devil Guards My Wife

The infernal laugh of thunder presided over her funeral. I stood far off with a fistful of wilted posies as strangers said incantations over my wife’s casket and lowered her into hell’s clammy grip.

I never saw her body. They said she fell down the stairs of the Manor while carrying linens. I nodded and didn’t believe a word.

I don’t care now about talk of rituals up there at night, and of rumors that almost froze my blood.

But that goat won’t leave. I’d kill it but I’m too scared. So I say a prayer and keep my posies.

60 Comments | tags: cemetery, devil, fiction, flash fiction, Friday Fictioneers, funeral, witchcraft | posted in Dark

July 9, 2013

Patbingsu: Korea’s Summer Ambrosia

By David Stewart

When I grew up, in Canada, there were two main cold treats in the summer: ice cream and those long freezies that cut the sides of your mouth when you ate them. And maybe popsicles.

Like sucking on a cherry flavored dagger

Like sucking on a fruit flavored dagger

It wasn’t until I came to Korea that I discovered something better than all of that. You heard me. Even better than ice cream, and not just because this thing sometimes includes ice cream. It’s called patbingsu (팥빙수) which translates as “red bean ice water”.

Okay, I admit that’s not a very delicious-sounding name. Bear with me.

The main ingredient of any patbingsu is shaved ice, which makes up most of it. This guarantees it’s about the most refreshing you could eat on a hot summer day. After that, there are sweetened red beans. Some people don’t like them, but I really do. Beyond that, it’s whatever you want to put on it. The most common toppings are ice cream, condensed milk, fruit cocktail, fresh fruit, small candies, strawberry syrup, small little rice cakes that look like marshmallows, sprinkles, etc.

This has long been a summer mainstay. Everywhere serves it over here, even fast-food restaurants like McDonald’s and KFC. Here is what I think of a traditional patbingsu looks like. This is what I ate today at a hole-in-the-wall food stand near my school.

Yum…

Of course, this is how it comes but you can’t eat it like this. First you have to mix it up really good until it doesn’t look as pretty.

These days, patbingsu has become a more high-class treat and so has generally become much more expensive and made with higher-quality ingredients (not better though, in my opinion). The above patbingsu cost me about $2.50.

Here is one I had a week or so ago at a coffee shop:

This one is much fancier and has sliced almonds, pieces of ddeok (rice cake) and things that look like brownies but aren’t (I ate it and I still don’t know what they were). It was good, but almost twice the price as the one above and not quite as good.

These days, there are other kinds of bingsu, for people who don’t want red beans. I have see fruit bingsu (very good), yogurt bingsu, coffee bingsu, green tea bingsu, rice cake bingsu, berry bingsu, etc. Here is the selection at a national bakery chain, Paris Baguette:

These are all quite delicious (except maybe the green tea bingsu) although they are quite expensive. The most expensive bingsu I ever bought was a 2-person strawberry frozen yogurt bingsu for about $12.00.

Whenever I finally go back to North America, this will be one of the hardest things about Korea to leave behind. One solution is to live near a large Korean population. Another idea is for all of you who live in North America to start popularizing this dessert and really make it catch on in a big way (you can start by sharing this post). That way, when I get back, it will be there waiting for me.

It’s win-win, trust me.

30 Comments | tags: culture, Ice cream, Korea, Patbingsu, shaved ice, snack, summer | posted in Korea

July 8, 2013

Alone on a Boat – Part 1

By David Stewart

This story is a collaborative story between myself and Sharmishtha Basu, a good friend of mine. I have written stories like this with my sisters growing up and with other friends, but this one is inspired most recently by the Baker’s Dozen story I took part in. This story, however, will just be the two of us, writing back and forth until it is finished. I will post every Monday and Sharmishtha will post her sections every Friday.

Alone on a Boat – Part 1

The tangy sea-spray smelled like freedom to Angelique as she stepped out onto the deck. Dawn was close and the lightening sky promised a beautiful day to come.

It had been a month after she had set out from Lisbon, and she was now anchored in a deserted cove on the Andaman Islands. After a swim in the cove and breakfast on the bow of the boat, she hoisted anchor and set off again, heading southeast for the Malacca Strait and Singapore.

It was about ten in the morning and Angelique had settled into the routine of the day when she spotted something floating in the water off to the right. Through her binoculars, she saw that it was an oil drum. As she got closer, she saw something clinging to it. A man. He was not moving.

What should she do? Picking up a strange man was out of the question, but she couldn’t just leave him to die either. Unless he was already dead. She thought about calling the authorities to pick him up, but how long would they take?

Her boat was close now and Angelique slowed and steered closer. It was definitely a man—she saw the scruff of black hair on his chin. His skin was dark, either naturally or from the sun, and his eyes were closed.

“Hey, are you okay?” she shouted.

The man opened an eye and said something so faintly, she could not hear it. She brought the boat closer. “What?”

“Water,” the man said.

Angelique brought the boat closer and then after a moment of hesitation, threw him a rope. He grasped it weakly and pulled himself towards the boat. When he finally managed to drag himself over the side, Angelique was ready, a glass of water in one hand and the flare gun in the other.

“I have water for you, but don’t try anything. Okay?”

The man nodded and she set the glass on the deck and pushed it towards him.

“More please,” he said when he had drunk it all. She got some more and he drank that too and then another two glasses.

“Were you shipwrecked?” she asked.

The man shook his head. “No.”

“Then why were you out here?”

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I’m going to Singapore right now. I can drop you at Port Blair, on South Andaman, if you want. It’s not too far away.” That was less than a day away, if she changed course and used the back-up motor. She did not want to spend a night with him onboard.

The man shrugged. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Angelique edged towards the wheel, keeping as far from the stranger as she could. “So, if you weren’t shipwrecked, what are you doing out here?” she asked.

The man put his head back on the gunwale and looked up at the sky. “Curious little joey, aren’t you?”

(to be continued…)

10 Comments | tags: adventure, Andaman Islands, castaway, collaborative writing, fiction, Indian Ocean, sailing, solo voyage | posted in Dusk

July 7, 2013

Is Water Chess Nuts? – Visual Fiction

By David Stewart

taken in Jeonju, South Korea

Is Water Chess Nuts?

Two men sat on the bench in the park, a controller between them that changed the water jets streaming out of the stone chess board.

“Knight to E4. Check.”

“E4? How is that check?”

“Your king is on F6.”

“No, that’s your piece, and it’s a rook.”

“But the rook is only supposed to be 1.6 meters high, not 1.9 meters high like the king.”

“That is only 1.6 meters. And see? It’s a straight stream like all the black pieces. The white pieces are more of a misty stream.”

“It looks misty from here.”

“It’s not. See only those three pieces aren’t misty: your king, your rook and that knight.”

“I have more than three pieces. Don’t I?”

“No, I captured the rest. Don’t you remember?”

“Are you positive?”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

At that moment, a group of squealing kids ran onto the chessboard and jumped into the jets of water. In an instant, the game was over and the men’s friendship was saved.