Tom went shopping in the local market, got some food and groceries, he had decided to cook daily to minimize spending as he does not know how long it will take him to accomplish his mission in Egypt. He has a gas cylinder and a small pot, thanks to his willingness, he had learned how to cook from his mom. As he was making his way to his tent, a word pricked his ear, someone was calling his name. 'but no one knows my name here, so, who's asking about me. He leaned a little closer cautiously to get the whole picture, and to his horror there stood a man with the typical Arab garment holding up a picture of him and showing it to the man who rented him his tent, the guide. Tom covered his mouth and made for the opposite direction immediately. When he turned again, he saw them lingering around his tent. He was devastated, all his documents, all his belongings are in that tent and there's no way he can leave the premises without them. He needs the credit cards and the account checkbooks, al
The staring competition became harsher if it could, the two men stood there sizing each other up trying to put the other down. Tom was thinking hard, squaring his small shoulders as if they count. "The chosen one? " Tom was deep in thought though his eye was still pinned on Raman. Raman on his own part was playing his cards close to his chest, he had to, he does not know who this little boy is, maybe he's one of those little things trained by the jihad groups or local tyrant youths and may have some tricks up his sleeve. Who knows if the boy is carrying a gun right there with him or was sent on a mission by his groups; that makes more sense seeing that the rock though hidden is at a vantage point where anyone can overlook the protected lands of the pyramids, the Egyptian pride. But, no mercenary or tyrant groups dare encroach this area, the government makes sure of this, then why now? Are they planning something big or is he just overthinking, "better be" he muttered. "What did you
As he was robotically making his way back to the tent, a heavily bearded man was wearing a flowing white robe and tying his turban in a very neat fashion with a striped robe. He looked Arab; though he does not carry that kind of sinister and trepidation air most of them carry, he looks like the sort that can easily make people forget his Arab heritage. He was quite calm, exuding an air of tranquility and a slight feeling of very warm friendliness. Tom could see this man approaching him with an amused face and a knowing smile that bordered on tenderness. He stopped, his eyes twitched involuntarily, and his mind went into haywire, fixing and transfixing. What's happening, and what should he do? Run. Is he one of those men seeking for him the other day? No, yesterday. Shut up, head. This is not the time to banter. 'Make a run for it, make a run Tom!' His mind screamed. "No, it's too late, he's already close," he muttered. Even if he dared to move now, the man is in full view of him an
Tom left that arena not knowing how to feel though his body is still feeling groggy, he needs to bathe. In a way, he felt surprisingly relieved, maybe he loves their help though he does not know how it will come, it sounds anyway, pretty sniffy but relieving to find a headrest for his poor overstressed skull. In a way, he's not relaxed. He's watched without knowing it. Only them? Better be. He strode into his tent, went to where he hid some of his money, gazed around as he doesn't trust his tranquil environment anymore. He extracted the cash from a purse and decided to find a strap and start hanging the purse over his neck, he no longer trusts the security of his tent. Turning around a white robe passed by the door of his tent and he jumped, but the white robe seems just to be passing by, he made a mental note to be closing the door of his tent every time even if the heat inside is threatening to roast him. With the money, he throttled outside not forgetting to jam the door shut. Wh
2040"Hello Sheltiel, what's up man? What's happening, what's all this rubble? "Dude Mr. Shanamon is dead.""Shanamon? Which Shanamon? Shanamon the bald one? I wanna know which Shana…. ""The Shanamon, the one we all know, the school principal is dead," Shel said in one breath. "What? You're kidding me! What do you mean by he's dead, what exactly… ""You've got eyes, don't you?"Skid was caught off guard by this question… "Yeah… so…?""Then use it. You can't see the rubble in front of you? Where's our School administrative building, your father's snake gobbled it right?. Sheltiel started blowing off some steam. "Man just damn it okay? Just damn all those kiddy questions of yours okay? I'm off. ""Come Shel, where are you going? " Skid ran to catch up. "To the cafeteria, don't bother asking, I'm not buying you lunch" he waved his hands. "O..Okay" Skid stammered back. ...At the Cafeteria"Man… see the news" Skid pointed to the flat-screen Samsung Television on the Cafeteria wall.
2040"Grandmaster, How do we know who's the risen Overlord? How do we get him over? ""The vulle guże chä will be drawn by the mighty power of the Chalice at the sphinx of hotblooded heka. The problem is that we need to embark on the quest to find out the particular location of the heka drawn by the risen Overlord to make him know that we are his subordinates.""How many options do we have my Grandmaster? That we may launch forth before the heathens behave unrulily. ""Since the time of the last vulle guże chä, no one has been able to explore and comprehend the Stone of Heka told in the legends of our dear Chalice, so, how can we possibly know where to look at? " he turned his gaze to the mason who just asked the question. "According to the books, " he continued, "the Stone of Heka is laid beneath the void under a sphinx of a red-blooded queen. This could be the Buddha sphinx, the Greek sphinx, or the image beyond the mounds of the Holy Land. ""We shall make sure to by hook or crook
2016Tom was a boy who loved his computer desk and classroom desk more than anything. You can say he is a lover of desks. Often, you'll see him in his classroom head down and peering over large folds of books. He has the habit of always leaning on his desk, then reading from his books placed on his laps. Sometimes, you'll wonder why desks were made in the first place; probably for a headrest. Back to Tom, Tom was a totally lovable boy, always gleaming with his jade white teeth set like almonds on his bountiful cheeks. He was always giggling whenever you see him on one of the rare occasions where he will appear on the playground. The most beautiful part of Tom's personality is that he is the guru-kind of guy, expansive knowledge in that his brain is hidden by his onion-ball-cut hair, and bubbly. The air bubbles whenever he is present. Tom loves some particular types of books; magic books. He's always intrigued and eager to know more whenever he picks a book on magic. He wonders why
Tom sped off to school the next morning after waving a hearty goodbye to his parents, and of course, they waved back almost giddily. It is a known fact that although Tom is not a sadist, you won't be wrong if you classify him as one. His parents were overjoyed seeing him in such a happy mood, it is rare to see so much mirth coming from him. However, one thing that they don't know is that Tom is a chameleon. Tom can switch moods as if it's chewing gum, he can make the atmosphere bubble while dying inside, he's just a flip. Midway to school, Tom changed direction, veered off to an unbeaten path, and entered a slum, there he switched clothes. In a twinkle of an eye, he was already out wearing a totally new set of clothes. A rueful smile could be seen on his lips as he wondered… "Who'd have known that a little boy like me will have these kinds of ideas and be bold enough to implement them? " his smile grew wider, "they know nothing at all. "With this, he hailed a cab and off to the cit