During the second day of the Klang River Festival—September 27th, I think, a Saturday in 2025.
Do you remember that day? I remember the barely open eyes, and the many scars. I had never seen so many scars on a face before.
It was a scorching afternoon, just after 4 p.m., but still during those moments when heatwaves rise off the asphalt—if not for the sudden rain… what do you call it, the kind that comes and goes abruptly in urban areas? A cloudburst. If not for the cloudburst that had kissed the ground just a few hours earlier.
I was cycling south from the Living Room Under (NPE bridge) when a slight movement brought me to a screeching halt. I looked down at the weeds, and I felt my eyes widen. Bleeding into the foliage—quite literally—was the largest iguana I had ever seen in my life (outside of a zoo).
I saw that it struggled to take a breath. It stayed still, seemingly meshed against the wire fence. Growing to this size is not simple for its species—surviving youth through instinct, evading shadows of crows that swoop low, sensing weakness in a weakening body.
Aqiel caught up behind me soon enough.
---
[1]
"I hear barking in the distance." Not again.."
"Let me see if I have more of those Lipas Busuk. Warm iridescence in a capsule. They're skittering about in a decorative jar. A label on it says Calliphara Nobilis.
[2]
"Mak kau hijau!"
The roots of the mangrove tree tangles around a brown dog. Wet and skinny from days of lackluster adventure.
Sticky substance seeps out of the leaves. The branches scratch against its worn down body.
"I saw green, and now I don't."
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For a moment the forest was silent, unusually so; the fur pricked behind the foxes’ ears, the birds hushed their tweeting young, and everybody waited with bated breath – for something, something big was coming.
A rustle, a tumble, and a crash, and a child burst through the trees, followed closely by coarse shouts and the thundering of men’s boots. And just as suddenly as they came, they were out of sight, and an uneasy quiet descended on the forest once again.
One man, however, was left behind in the pusuit – he wasn’t too enthusiastic about this pursuit – this was a child, for god’s sakes. One child can’t be worth all this trouble. No, he was a reasonable man, with a head firmly screwed onto his shoulders, and if he were captain of this hunting troupe, he’d tell his boys to pack up and return.
A child! He shook his head; no, there were certain things civilised minds drew a line at, and this was wasteful and, frankly, superstitious. He jumped at the crack of a twig underfoot, and turned around again – it struck him then that he did not have a compass, and the sun was starting to set.
All he had to do was follow the trail left behind by his troupe, big bumbling men as they were, leaving a trail of broken roots, muddy prints, and rips of uniform torn out by creeping branches. That’s all. It’s easy.
But, just wait a minute, he could have sworn he had just been this way. A slight buzz of panic set in by his temples, and he listened keenly for a sound, a tweet of a bird, a murmur of his friends, but besides the slight bristling of leaves, there was complete silence. This can’t be normal.
Well, it’s simple, just shimmy up a tree and look out for the light from camp. And believe me, he would if he could have, but he just noticed that all the trees were rather thin, and – he braced a foot against a tree and heard a resounding crack – no, it would not take his weight. Alright, no worries, don’t panic, there ought to be a tree that can take his weight. He just has to… wander a bit. No, this one won’t do; that looks diseased; this one looks - hey, this tree is joined to the tree next to it. He squinted his eyes against the dying light and, sure enough, the trees shared branches, shared leaves, they’re masquerading as different trees.
And so it went on. Everywhere he seemed to look, he traced shared vines, shared boughs, he saw a squirrel scampering across three trees that were just one, and he felt a little insane before he caught himself. This is foolish; it’s one of the savages’ tricks.
---
SMALL FEEBLE BEING (POEM) 25/4/2026
Small feeble being Rattus tiomanicus is your name Scant creature scuttling around this city of green Not much like the concrete jungles inhabited by its cousins Though sparked with the same terrifying means Your death at the expense of exploitation To be conserved or cared for, you matter not Not even to those authoritative individuals which seem so above you Both literally and figuratively So high up in a world you can't even begin to fathom A world of unfamiliarities and you're merely the size of an atom
Small feeble being Before you a forest of palm trees await Enrapturing you, calling to you, your prayers have been answered For a moment there you thought you were at heaven's gate But this is no heaven, a sanctuary surely not So quaint and so peculiar you seem "Is this the end?" you ask Salvation you now seek
Small feeble being You lay so quietly in my palm I could see the fear in your minuscule eyes
Small feeble being You lay so quietly in my palm I could see the fear in your minuscule eyes The size of a grain of black pepper Your body lies weak and reluctant to move. Olive brown fur visible under artificial sunlight Shining down on you like a call to a place beyond even myself
Small feeble being Forgiveness you seek and empathy I shall give To the soil you went, camouflaged in a sea of dark shadows and leaves You blend so easily, almost impossible to be perceived Today you are saved but luck for tomorrow is not guaranteed Not even a little bit And you have the right to blame it on our greed
Small feeble being Pest to most, prey to some And certainly a companion to none What could be the crime of your existence When they deem it to be so worthless All you wanted was a bite to sustain To keep on living, but not in vain To end the suffering, just not this way
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I’m starting to think that, to have faith, someone needs an emotional incentive to hold onto it. No pun intended, but it’s starting to make sense why religion is so hard to lose. Especially when you consider how faith can help preserve familial ties, offer a reason to keep going despite hardship, or provide a sense of belonging when someone feels lost.
All of those are emotional incentives to hold onto a belief. Religion doesn’t need to be right for someone—it just needs to have substance
Things i swallowed.
Dead Fish foreign to my body.
Floating Bottles, broken blades
Lots of Blood behind the central marketplace.
Bodies. Babies.
Chemicals that killed the babies
Mattresses
plastic,
plastic waste, refrigerators, lorry tyres, motorcycles, and more mattresses, nails, bolts, doors,
metal doors, wooden doors, spirit doors, spirits.
Are you triggered. Did you see? Do you remember dumping that saka? people are triggered because this is something they "see"; how many dumping of saka into rivers we do not see (assuming that this excuse is true from the perspective of the family)? Had they been smarter, they (and many others who believe in the supernatural) would still discard it into a river.
Why not throw it into the rubbish bin, you might ask.
Because from a paganist point of view, every river has its own spirit. As this "thing" (seen as a jinn in some cultures, curse in others) is spiritual in nature, a river spirit can isolate and remove it away from the "victim". If it's discarded in a trashbin, the jinn/curse will still find its way to the victim as they're blood-linked
So even if this family wasn't caught throwing it away in broad daylight, they will certainly find another, more secluded river & throw it there. Indeed, those who share the same belief have commented that the family should have gone down to the river's edge & thrown it away (hello, isn't that littering as well?)
Nevertheless, I doubt JPJ can accept the reason that a river spirit's assistance is why you had to dump stuff into a river. JPJ has issued a investigation notice under Section 114 of the Road Transportation Act 1987 where if one is found guilty, the offender can be slapped a fine of not more than RM2k, jailed not more than 6-months or both.
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