English Club

Hey guys long time no see!
Should we hand down the page to students in the university or should we archive it?
Miss you all by the way❤️

In celebration of yet another school year, the FSHST clubs rally up to welcome students back.

English Club members promise to be among the front lines tomorrow for the Peace Festival that CMC & Co generously organized.

Welcoming you all home,
EC.

Dear Friends,

“What does all this mean finally, I kept asking like a college kid. Why does it make me want to cry? Maybe it’s that we are all outsiders, we are all making our own unusual way through a wilderness of
normality that is just a myth.”
― Anne Rice, Exit to Eden

When reality comes crashing down around you, I assure you, its weight is none too gentle. It will tear up your very soul, but perhaps for the first time in your life, you'll have some sort of use for your rusty heart.

You see, I could tell you tales of glorious times that should not have existed, but did despite everything and anything. Why?

Because life defies logic, for logic exists within our minds, and minds are crafted throughout life.

Red is "Red" because someone willed it to be so, and it is based on that statement that I justify the gut wrenching experiences that are our lives.

Never in my life have I voiced my worries and problems but a pen and ink are those in which I confide. The only friend that I told of my deepest secrets could reward me with nothing but silence. It descended and we were more than eager to let it. We had grasped a new meaning of our friendship, and we had a lot more respect for one another than we had the day before.

Now, I do believe that not all souls are identical, but we do share one or two features. We feel better when our burden is shared, or at least made public.

Some seek attention, but those of us that seek comfort, operate differently. I once told you of normality, and that there were rules to bind us.

The normal and the everyday are often amazingly unstoppable, and what is unimaginable is the cessation of them. The world is resilient, and, no matter what interruptions occur, people so badly want to return to their lives and get on with them. A veneer of civilization descends quickly, like a shining rain. Dust is settled.

Aye, dust is settled...

Faithfully,

Alec

Am I the only one refreshing this page every five minutes?

Dearest friends,

"An evening spent
Recalling life's events
Crowded in my skin
In Solitude" ~ Terence George Craddock

I was left in my room for some days after memories had me open the music box. Every few hours a glass of water would appear, as well as a bowl of bread and soup. My friends were keeping me alive for the time being, as they always did.

Left on my own, with naught but memory and soup to keep me company, I drifted in and out of past and future lives. I saw things that were not there, heard whispers that existed only in my mind (and, I suppose, damned alternate realities), and thought of Sarah and Wej, Amber and her husband.

My companions were alive and well, of that I could be sure. The mistakes I always make would keep anyone away, and I was not about to leave my demons to eat me up alive, I was going to reach that last one, let it crack my mind. Or until I had cracked it for him.

I missed Sarrah, most of all, missed her scent and her touch. This life I had chosen her, out of them all, to be with. Some lives I choose another, other lives I choose both – most lives I
choose neither. No one. Not this time, however, as this was the last time. The note I had left Sarrah would explain enough for them to stay well away. If all went to plan, and I had no reason to think it wouldn't, then I'd be seeing her again soon.

"More than two loves across the long years, Alec," a voice whispered deep within the chaotic maelstrom of memory. "More than two women damned for being close to you."

"They're not damned," I whispered, staring up out of the window at the constant twilight beyond. The unchanging sky was enough to drive anyone mad. "I died, too, so they can all live again… another chance."

"Is that a mercy, you think? To die and live again? None remember it save you, Alec but you are tearing the souls of billions from the void and forcing reality to
reset. Can't you hear the souls of the dead screaming at you to stop?"

I can't stop.

To live, to die, to buy the beers… What was her name? To stop is to be defeated. I will never be defeated.

Inhuman fortitude, impossible strength in the face of insurmountable odds and a helluva persistent headache. It always gets worse and worse, does it not? "Chances waiting to be taken," I said. The sky was darkening, which was impossible, so I guess I was either falling asleep or passing out. One and the same in my current fu**ed up condition. "She was pale. Cute. What was her name?" It was on the tip of my tongue. Not Sarrah. Not that.

Black hair with a streak of soft blonde. Large, kind eyes and a sharp nose. She was only tiny, five feet and change, but beautiful. She never wore make-up, but she didn't need it… Her face was captivating. Plain and friendly – more than enough to inspire desire.

"Her name?" I asked the voice that was only the madness in my mind. Batsh*t-insane and feelin' fine, that was me. SO BE IT! "She was human and she loved me."

One of the few that ever could.

Because no one can be loved by all.

Only a few can love you.

And they...

Haha...

They are unique.

Yours,
Alec

Dear friends,

It had made for a bumpy ride, as the enchantment on the life I have been leading had faded over time– and the world had moved on in the three millennia since my fate was set. A few more centuries and the truth would have been lost forever, yet that wasn't meant to be.

I gained my feet and looked about myself, standing ragged in my torn suit and straightening my glasses across the bridge of my nose. Just where in the world was I now? I knew all too well, unfortunately..

The starlit fog churned around me, spinning like a whirlpool faster and faster and sweeping up the edge of my torn suit jacket. The illusion stolen from my head of hate f aded, only to be replaced by a third and more horrifying figure…

"My sweet Alec , what ha s become of you now?" Precious Sarrah … ah hell… Sometimes it's my brother I see at this stage. The nightmares in my head of a time that has not come to pass (yet) were perfect fodder for this dark illusion.

"You're not real," I said, betrayed only by the shake in my voice. It was real enough. Real enough that I could smell the burnt flesh that covered most of her b eautiful body. She stood before me in ragged blue robes, dirtied and bloodied, that barely clung to her frail form. Her gorgeous blond hair had been scorched from her skull, and her silky smooth skin was rough and abrasive, bruised and swollen. One of her eyes bulged, threatening to burst, and half the teeth in her gums had been blasted out of her mouth by the heat that had claimed her life.

Once upon a time, this horror had been real. She had died in my arms as I held her in the smouldering pit of fire that pain and hate had made of those who had dared to stand against them – my friends, my allies, my lover.

I held her and burned alive.

Three guesses what caused the greater pain,

but you'll only need one..

Yours,
Alec

Dear friends,

"Milliseconds influence centuries." ~ Robert Cowley.

At what point does justice become vengeance ?

Who gave you the right to cross the lie ?

You don't see how stubbornly you cling on this path on the road to hell..

That made me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. Closer and closer to normal, what with all this feeling and thirst for actually living life. I had to be careful, or too much sentiment would weaken my resolve. It had happened before, in times when I hadn't been able to let go.

For a long time, I walked through life thinking that what made me different was acceptable, that what made me different made me fit in. Yet I came to know the harsh truth hiding behind the ashes of my ignorance, of my blind stupidity.

They call me a friend, they do. And I don't blame them, no I don't, because they don't mean to be different, they just are, and blaming them for being themselves is like blaming someone for eating donuts just because you're on your diet.

We don't exist in their world.. We don't fit on their scale of grandeur..

We have no role but to co-exist, living the lie, the illusion that we fit in, when we can stand out as the outsiders every damn time..

And why do we continue to do such ?

Because we need to, just as we need to breathe, we need to belong, because feeling alone is most likely the worst of all fears, that and the loss of family- blood, they say, is thicker than water- But either way I see no end in which pain isn't involved, and I would rather accept reality rather than continue to deceive myself.

Not because I don't want what they have, not because I don't crave their glory..

But because in the end,

None of them will be there,

No friend,

No foe,

And all that we can do is bathe and bask in the pain of loneliness, just as we are destined to do.

With a heavy heart,

Alec

Correspondence 010 :

" i was let down several times i was in deep sorrow few times more . yes i admit that i had those rough bad moments but i didn't let those moments over effect me. frustration did come into my way but i have never stopped hoping for good things to happen sort of miracles to take place in my life i was that kind of boys who believed in fantasies and fairytales and life changing events ! i was satisified with my mere simple uncomplicated life if i have the right to call it this way it seemed logical and convenient to describe it this way. how stupid is the age of innocence, how stupid our smiles were. but how beautiful and pure those moments were . i was looking for that one unknown kind of thing which can change my life immediately ever after."

Dear friend,

I read somewhere sometime in the past few years that it is only the unknown that we fear when we look upon death and darkness and that happiness could be found in the darkest of moment if only we remembered to find that spark of light.

Sure, looking back at the past, you will see the beauty that innocence was, yet if you can remember being a child, you'll remember feeling the same way that you do right now.

Doesn't that tell you something ?

I think of that and I see the truth..

That the unknown factor that you are searching for, the change you crave..

..is in you.

Yours,
Alec

Dear friends,

"You have enemies?

Good.

That means you've stood up for something,

sometime in your life." ~Churchill

Expect… anything.

Just tumblin' down the rabbit hole, boss.

That's the best way of putting it. Portals between worlds are not meant to exist. They are wrong. They break the rules of reality and shift the impossible into overdrive, giving all that exists a shove toward that deliberate uncertainty found only in dreams.

Only in dreams..

Travelling through one is painful. It's like getting shoved through a keyhole ass-backwards – or like getting a bl***ob from a blender. Yeah… It just don't feel right. It's for moments like these that I do all I can to stop time...

We were forged through blood and circumstance, as close as two people could be given the nature of our lives. This was where it led, where it was meant to be. Time moved quickly, far too quickly, and I find myself caring what you think.

Did I deserve her affection? Had I earned this moment, these feelings? Maybe yes and maybe no.

I had been here before, with her, and I hoped to be here again – many, many times. This was our first time, if you trust that Time only flows one way and that's the law, set in stone and unbreakable. I prayed to gods that did not exist that this would be our last first time. For what it's worth, I don't think it mattered, and that it never would..

There were always reasons to break – even hope was a complex enough reason to break. This was one of those moments, lost in reality with her, our breathing tightening when it was time for me to leave, where I wanted to break, wanted to let down my guard and allow the world to rise or fall as it would.

Unswayed by the influence of the guilty and the powerful. Of which I was both, sweetheart.. What is my name again?

I die for you, sweetheart. I always die for you.

I could've been on a beach in sunny Australia right now, reading books and sipping a cold, frosty beer. But I wasn't. I was here, at the forefront of a horrifying yet beautiful sight of life and affection.

Not love, but affection.

But it wasn't all bad… no, sir, not at all. Because when she whispered my name, time slowed and I found my land of dream in the crisp of reality. Moments of clarity.. Terrible moments of mercifully brief understanding that make me remember the cost. Remember what was lost – and how little I sold my soul for. There had to be a better bet than this..

Perhaps I can find it in you..
Perhaps my prayers will be heard..
And perhaps..

Perhaps..

An angel in the distance would listen..

Yours,
Alec

Dear friends,

"I was locked up in a crazy place.

They found me on the streets,

begging for grace.

I don't remember, but they say I lost my mind…"
~Kadison

Do you remember long ago ? That memory of freedom ?

We rocketed through the sapphire sky, well beyond the speed of sound, and yet left no crash in our wake. The wind barely tussled our hair. The enchantments on this trip were extraordinary.

You and I flew into yesterday, chasing the night before. The most simplest, purest form of daydream—that of one second at a time—across times and dreams.

That was a story too convoluted and complex to make any kind of sense. Did I play into her hands or her into mine? We complemented each other, was perhaps the nicest way of putting it.

Chicken and egg bu****it, boss

The consequences were not something to bear thinking about it, and yet, it was all I could think about. Every minute of the day. Like that one girl you can't have, but love anyway—a longing ache—and then bury beneath wild cherry blossoms under an Australian sun.

Or whatever..

It was good being around friends. Over twenty years and I still forgot that sometimes. It was good, and honest, and beat back the memories better than I ever could alone. For the first time in a long time I smiled and meant it. I smiled and it wasn't because of the jagged hooks of insanity shredding apart my mind.

Then I thought of home, of what was lost and what could still be lost, and my smile faded. Not to despair—never to despair—and I wrapped an arm across my lover's shoulders as she looked up at me from her book, graced me with a smile and returned her attention to her homework.

Life as a dreamer was tiring, sure..

The work was hard, the hours long, and the pay low…

But so long as I remembered to breathe every now and again.

Well, then it was easy..

Yours,

Alec

Perspective...
My tool
My weapon
My armor
My defense..

Dear friends,
I had to survive.
The memories, however befuddled they were, had information on practically everything, save the new stuff of today. One thing my older, deader friends had learnt in their many lives and many failures was the use and extent of love…
I had learnt how to shatter Time, bend thought, subdue armies using thought and more importantly, I had learnt how to do without love and affection.
I smiled a content smile; all too fu***ng pleased with myself.
Love they said.. But did they know what it is ? Love is an explosion in a hopeless desert.. There's smoke. A lot of smoke.
Who'll be still standing when it clears ?
My brother urged me to chase such a thought, yet I let everyone know how irritated I was with his words. I even stood at the receiving end of looks of respect and understanding.
If I was being honest to myself, then I was half-expecting the looks to transform into shock and fear as the word spread that I was against whatever perspective people shared about the existence of the perfected idea of love. Yet either it hadn't happened yet, or word hadn't spread. Bu****it brotherly concern aside, with the way my week was going I was fully expecting something unlikely to bite me in the arse..
How often do I feel that strange perception, beyond mere words to explain, that reality has shifted… that nothing was as it had been.
That nothing was as it should be.
I was beginning to think that may be a bad thing – not a wrong thing – but awfully right for very terrible reasons.
I think my greatest flaw might be that I fight alone – always have done. Other people die, other people get killed, and I can't deal with it. I transcended time and space to undo the future, and yet I keep making the same mistake. And I know it, I do, time and time again, I keep fighting life mostly on my own. And look what happens.
Yet what choice did I have? What hope? I try and I try and this time my best… well, it has to be good enough. Because everything from the bleeding wound in my heart to the blazing headache consuming my will to live, told me that this time around all bets were off.
All bets were off.
And the world belonged to the last man standing.
Time and time again Yours,
Alec