It has been two grueling,awful and execrable years of my entire life working with James. Big buffed body, an enormous two-faced dragon tatooed on his right arm, dozens of ear piercings and an awful scar, slashing straight across his left eye. We have been working together for two years already, and it was never pleasant. Robbing. That's what we do. Despite the countless times of robbery that we have done and was never caught, I abhore robbing for a living, but what can I do, James own me. I have nowhere to run.

Today, James and his other mates are going to rob again. A jewellery store. He gripped my body tightly, with his index finger at my throat, ready to give me the cue to cover up for him. His sweaty palm begin to tighten around me. His sweat left wet marks smudged all over my gleaming black skin. He slipped the black mask over his face, and barged into the jewellery store.

"Stop whatever you're doing ! Put your hands on your head or I'll make sure you'll never see tomorrow again ! Now do it ! " James screamed at the customers and at the old man behind the counter. 

He pointed me at them and shock swept across their faces. Beads of sweat trickled down their foreheads, some were batting their eyelids, trying to stop themselves from crying in fear. They were scared of me, scared that I would scream at their faces and took their lives away from them. I am a killing machine, and I cannot deny that eventhough I cannot stand the fact that I am. I looked into James brown eyes, the glint of dark, malevolent eyes burning a hole at every terrified faces in the store. Without any hesitation, he made his way to the old man while his other mates watched the other customers like a hawk.

"Put every single cent and every single jewel in this bag now, you stupid old geezer. Do it or I'll shove this revolver down your throat," James hissed , showing no mercy to the old man.

The old man looked at me and gulped in fear and quickly did as he was told. I felt empty. One look at me and I could send dozens of people running for their lives away from me. Terror was engraved in every single victim's eyes who stands before me. I glanced across the store. Innocent people are invovled and their lives depended on me. If James's finger made a little slip, I could sent one soul away from this living world. Suddenly, a young lad came charging towards James with a baseball bat in his hands, and without a moment, James tightened his grip on me and let his finger slip. 

" BANG! "

Right infront of me, a body laid still in a pool of thick and red blood. The eyes of the victim was still wide opened, and I could feel his eyes was staring straight into me. I have taken away someone's happiness, someone's loved one. Someone's life. It happened again. I have killed someone again, but I guess that was what I was made for. 

I am a Colt M1917 revolver, a six-shot revolver of 45 ACP calibre. I defend and kill people for a living. I am a killing machine, a non-living monster who sets terror run down people's spine. It has been two awful years working for James. Defending him and taking away people's liffe upon his own liking. James owns me, but I own his life.

A fake smile which was plastered onto my face, was all I could give to the ravenous and greedy cameras,flashing right infront of my face, indulging and devouring all they could get themselves on as I entered into my beautiful and gleaming dark armoured limo. Without a moment to lose, it sped off into the night.

I held my Gibson Flying V guitar in my left hand as I squeezed my eyes shut and massaged my temples, trying my best to shut myself out from the world for at least a few seconds. Fame,red carpets,concert tours,money,autograph sessions - a rockstar gets that almost every single day. It is like living in cloud nine. What more could I possibly want in life when I have everything which people would kill and die for? I have my own FanClub, I meet different popstars and superstars every single day, I own two luxurious cars, three incredible motorbikes and have a house in California,Hawaii,London and New York. I live a perfect live, yet, in my heart and soul, I am actually crying and lost. In fact, I would do anything to get away from the life I have, which I could  describe it with two words. A prison.

Through my years of being a rockstar, I have been living as a prisoner in this body of mine. Caged is the word. Shackles are locked around my wrists and I have nowhere to go. Yes, being rockstar is like being lucky for the rest of your entire life. In my life as a rockstar, loads of money fell from the sky like snow and fame is like your velvet lace of clothes. People deemed it was the perfect life. However, it was not even close to perfect. Everywhere I go, there will be bodyguards watching me like a hawk. Not for a single moment will they linger their sight to somewhere else.Not even for a split second. Paparazi will taint my life with dirt and definitely, the word 'privacy' is not even in their vocabulary. In public, every single moment, minutes and seconds, I could feel dozens and dozens pairs of eyes, burning a hole through my shoulder. Some will scream in excitement, some will desperately hurry and fished out their cameras to snap a picture of me and some will even stalk me. 

 I feel like a little girl, running in the woods. Wolves running and following my shadows,covering themselves with a blanket of darkness behind the trees. I feel lost, insecure and lonely. Behind the popular smile of a rockstar, strumming her guitar and singing her heart out, lies a girl, waiting to be found. I would do anything to just live like a regular person down the street. I want to go hang out with my true friends who will listen to my sorrows, not shooting me with questions and appointments. I want to have fun, let the wind in my hair. I want to be me. Being a rockstar doesn't only change my life,it made me lost myself. I sometimes don't even know why I'm here, enjoying such 'fame'. I have forgotten the real me inside, and now, I'm just leaving life as it is because I'm suppose to live it that way. Sometimes when I even talked to my manager, my hairdresser, the people who sticks themselves to me for a job, they are just not listening. They just hear what they want to hear, but they are actually not really listening.

I dragged my feet into my room,ignoring the babbles and discussion of my manager, the constant ringing of moblie phones when I reached home to my two stories high. My room, the only place where I could block the world out of my head and gain sanity back to my senses. I sprawled myself on the bed and then curled into a ball like a baby in a mother's womb. I cradled myself through the night, dreading for the sun to rise and pierce through the heart of the dark starry night.

Telling:

The old lady sat alone in her room.

Showing:

[edited]

The rocking chair creaked as she swayed in the chair,resting her fragile and weak legs.She mustered every single ounce of energy she have left and placed her walking sitck by her side with her decrepit and  wrinkled hand. Her eyes which was filled with sunsets held no happiness,just a hollow and gloomy space. The Goddess of the Wind danced outside her window, with the leaves and trees swaying to her beat, rushing into her room breaking the stillness of the room. The shrill chirping lullaby of the crickets echoed in her ear drums, filling her ears and breaking the disturbing silence lingering in her room. Deep in her thoughts, she began to close her eyes, and feel the four bare and naked walls enclosing around her, trapping her.

Two hours. 

It has been exactly two hours since I was stabbed in the back. It has been exactly two hours since I have lost my true love. It has been exactly two hours since I have been sitting in this room of mine, punching and cursing at my reflection in the mirror.

"Face it Chris, you are hopeless," I whispered to myself as I slumped against the wall, reminiscing the trigger of my misery.

Three weeks ago, I met the most stunning, sensuous and pulchritudinous girl in my entire twenty years of life. Jasmine was her name. Her clean and perfect features, and her nice lean and sexy figure could just make every single boy just stop dead in their tracks.

She owns a pure gold heart and everything a guy would want for. I daresay, she is perfect.

With just one quick 'Hello' being exchanged between me and her, everything falls into place. We began to hang out together more oftenly and sooner than we realised, we fell in love. I thought I have finally found my true love, but I stand corrected.

George, my best mate, came into my love portrait of me and Jasmine. He began to tag along in all of our dates, always interrupting whenever I'm spending time with Jasmine. Easier said, he never left me and Jasmine alone. I began to feel annoyed with George uninvited presence. However, he was my best mate, thus, I shut one eye. 

Days passed and George presence was immune to me. My feelings for Jasmine was still strong and pure and I have decided to propose to her, to declare that I want to spend the rest of my days with her. I clutched a silver ring with beautiful diamonds embedded on it ,in my hand.

With a smile , I rushed to meet Jasmine in the park where we first met. I quickly hailed a cab and made my way with my heart beating with  happiness.

I ran to the big oak tree with the wind in my face, but suddenly, I stopped dead in my tracks as I saw a guy, on his knees, proposing to a gorgeous girl.The girl smiled and mouthed the word "Yes".Then, their lips touched. That guy was known as my best mate, George, and that girl was known as my true love, Jasmine. I was gobsmacked. My heart shattered to the ground. I was dolorous. The smile on my face was replaced with a frown. Without hesitation , I left without even looking back. 

In 'English' terms, hello to you, you and you.

I hereby declare that this blog will be my 'English-Juneholiday' blog.

Oh bugger.

P/S : Kudos to the boys who had participated in the interclass soccer match. You guys kicked some ass-es in the field. Good job 3E3 ! ^^

✮HANISZ.