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Ecstatic, reminded

And as per usual when it comes to times when I'm supposed to do something, a.k.a studying for A Levels, I'm here doing what I'm not supposed to.

Again.

Oh well.

Anyway, while reading through my emails today, I stumbled upon a rather old email from a fellow fanfictioner (I don't care if that's not a real word. =P) and the request to translate my fanfiction.

Can you believe it? MY fanfiction.

Needless to say, I was ecstatic. Still pretty ecstatic now when I think about it. ^^

Brought to life, with nothing but words. 

It's the closest I'd came to really touching hearts with a piece of writing. I love reading stories where the characters really grew. I don't mind if there's no constant action, or if things don't really move on, like they do in Harry Potter, where adventures and adventures pile upon one another. I like reading about the characters, how they feel, how they act, how they react to conflicts. I love the play of words, the unexpected assemblage of single words when the author tries to describe the inner torture and eventually the characteristics that really brings a character to life.

That's why I love Moment of Impact so much. There's so much loss in Harry Potter, so many deaths, so many sacrifices. How can it not have an impact on the souls of the characters? That's where fanfiction comes in. Especially Moment of Impact. Oh of course, it does go a little bit AU (Alternate universe) with the whole Severus Harry interaction, but that's what makes it harder to bear when Severus had to kill Albus with Harry watching, harder to bear when Severus was trapped in his one man island -- Hogwarts when Harry is out there battling demons and horcruxes.

Random Harry Potter spam pic. The family that almost was. Gets to me every time. T^T

Oh. I'm getting sidetracked. Sorry, this always happens when you get me talking about Harry Potter. Or books, in general. Or movies, for that matter. Or music, too.

Right. Sidetracked.

Back to --where were we-- oh, the fanfiction and its translation. So, I'm gonna post the translation up here ('cause the original site is password protected) and let you guys judge how good the job was done, since my chinese's a little rusty and I don't think I'm much good at judging the writing when I'm busy trying to convince myself this happened.

By the way, I wrote the original fanfiction while listening to Safe and Sound (Taylor Swift, duh) so you could read the translation with the song too if you want.

Oh, and if you haven't read the original, or want to read it (you really do? awww sweetheart I love you), you could read it here (Safe and Sound).

Right. So... here it is.

“只需闭上双眼，你会没事的。当明日晨光初现，你我都会安然无恙。” ——Taylor Swift

Severus 看见他坠落，从他原先站立的地方。疾驰的强光穿过空气，掠过成百上千的死去或受伤的躯体，然后势不可挡地撞上 Harry Potter 的护盾。在令人心跳停止的一刻，护盾爆发出强烈的光芒，边缘微微卷曲。它看上去能够支撑住。

但随即 Harry Potter 的魔力迅速地枯竭，护盾碎裂成百万个碎片，在坠落到地面的过程中分崩离析。那道光撕裂了短暂的距离——然后击中了目标。就在某个躯体的正中。

神锋无影。

讽刺极了，它是如何引起——而现在，又结束——这一切的？

红色从伤口扩散，当 Severus 飞跃过他们之间的距离、将手伸向他时 Harry 正撞击在地面上。他摸索到这个男孩的手并紧紧地握住它，然后感受到他轻微地回握。

“我很抱歉，”男孩小声说道，他的呼吸又轻又浅。

Severus 摇头。“不，你做得够好了。你没有任何事需要道歉。”

Harry 皱了皱眉，摇头。“我没有。我的护盾碎了。”

“它确实。”

寂静降临。Severus 知道这男孩已经准备好面对一切，面对痛苦，面对最后的离去。

“我真的做得不错，是吗？”过了一会儿，Harry 问。

“是的。非常好，” Severus 说。一双绿宝石似的眼睛闪耀在他身上，一只来自过去，一只来自现在。“你母亲会为你骄傲。”

“你这么想？”

“是的。”

“你觉得他们会在那儿吗？”

Severus 伸手擦去这张脏兮兮的脸上迷失的泪水，点头。所以就是这种感觉——让某颗刚刚痊愈的心再次撕裂的感觉。

他搂着这男孩，握着男孩的双手，就像他在无眠的白天和痛苦的夜晚无数次做过的那样。 Harry Potter 脸上的泪水一点也不稀奇，他看过它们无数次，拭去过他们在数不清的场合。

Harry 的泪水曾经很珍贵，Severus 记得。他以前不认为这男孩哭过。但在那个夜晚，在 Hogwarts 的占星塔他们被敌人包围，他第一次看见他的眼泪。这男孩站在塔的边缘，几乎坠落——如果不是 Severus 及时把他拉回来。

“你到底怎么回事？你该死的大脑坏掉了吗？” Severus 冲他叫喊，他的心脏略过了自己对这男孩的感觉。这男孩有勇气去尝试一个不知名的黑魔法——一个危险的黑魔法由他，Severus 所发明——在他眼前，而现在他却想要结束生命。

这男孩没有说任何话；他只是简单地站在那儿，茫然地看着地面。他甚至没有意识到 Severus 的存在。

Severus 眼前发红。“回答我，Potter！”他冲上前去摇晃这昏沉的男孩，去把意识摇回这固执的十六岁的混蛋，而他抬起了眼睛。

绿宝石。纯粹的绿宝石眼——盈满了无色液体——直直撞进 Severus 自己黑色的一双。Severus 震惊得无法言语。但不是因为与 Lily 相似而让他震惊。这是因为双眼里陈旧的疲倦——他看过太多——直白的痛苦。

一滴泪水从 Harry 的眼角滑落，而在 Severus 缓过神来之前，他崩溃了，安静地啜泣，十六岁的脆弱身躯颤动。

“我做不到。所有的这些人……我、我不能看着他们因为我战、战斗然后死去、我再也承、承担不了了。” Harry 挣扎着说。Severus 的心脏为这孩子抽紧。他完全能理解，整个世界压在你肩上的重量，看着他们一个接一个离去和死亡，说再见和再见和再见，而你，只是一个人活着，渴望着什么时候轮到自己。

Severus 把这男孩拉进自己怀里，他们的心脏紧紧相贴。他没有放开，没有把他推走。假如有，他只会更紧地拥抱他。男孩看到得太多了，感受得太多了，被推得太远了。围攻仍在继续。他们被推得太远了。

他站在那儿，安静地拥抱着他直到啜泣平息。

“你不是孤身一人，Harry。”

我记得泪水顺着你的脸颊流下
而我说我将永远不放开你的手
当所有的阴影几乎熄灭你的光芒
我记得你说别留下我一个人
但这一切都在今晚化作尘埃

在一次失败的自杀尝试后，Harry 将 Severus 的地窖当做了避难所，在无眠的夜晚一次又一次地徘徊，直到 Severus 允许他留下。

Severus 从不留任何预言家日报在 Harry 能看到的地方。男孩知道现在的情形，这些实在足够了。这体现在家养小精灵的食物供应量里。这体现在彼此脸上的刻痕里。这体现在 Harry 肩膀越来越低，而 Severus 睡得越来越少。

你害怕看向窗外吗
一切都在燃烧，亲爱的
门外的战争仍在肆虐

Harry 越来越少地冒险离开城堡。他把自己锁在 Severus 的地窖里，常常无生气地望向远方。金三角不复存在，Severus 从 Harry 频繁的梦魇里得知，他们双双阵亡在一场毁灭魂器的战役里。而 Gryffindors 也全部阵亡，一些为了保卫 Harry，另外的则是因为食死徒的频频袭击。

（凸 作者几句话写死了多少人！！我的赫敏罗恩 凸）

再也没有理由让 Harry 微笑了。再也没有理由让所有人微笑。

后来，Severus 翻出了 Lily的旧音乐盒，从他私人的珍藏里。他回想起 Harry 看到它时眼里的光芒、那难以置信的、孩子气的愉悦弥散在他的脸上，哦，多么珍贵，尤其在这种时候。Harry 抬起头，充满快乐和虔诚地看着他——以至于Severus无法忍受地转头。

那个夜晚标志着一个新的 Harry的诞生，他因为母亲的纪念品而平静地睡着了。Severus站着注视着他，一整夜，努力记住这男孩的面容，最后一次看着原来的那个孩子。

一个男孩。

那晚Severus许下了另一个誓言。当他离开Harry的房间，他向无论什么神发出了祈祷。

坚持，Harry。

坚持。

牢牢记住这支摇篮曲
即使音乐已经停止

从这以后的每个夜晚，那支古老的摇篮曲催他们入眠。Harry把音乐盒带到任何他去的地方。

即使现在，当Harry的眼皮垂得越来越低，旧音乐盒从他的长袍里掉出。Severus把它捡起来，打开，让这温柔的旋律笼罩他们。这柔和又清晰的和声在战场里显得无比荒诞，声音在他们的耳朵里变响，直到它成为整个世界里唯一的声音。

太阳缓缓沉没，它明亮的光芒就如同Hogwarts的幸存者一样黯淡下去。他们的人数和勇气随着Harry的生命一起迅速凋零。战争走向结束。

“别怀念我。”这是Harry发出的虚弱声音。

“我不会的。”

Harry这时微笑起来，一个真正的笑容绽开在他的双眼。他轻微地畏缩了下，痛苦几乎无法忍受。他太疲倦了，太疲倦以至于想睡着并且不再醒来。Severus的手握得更紧了一些。

“闭上眼睛。休息吧。”

当Harry闭起双眼，他听见Severus顺着摇篮曲唱下去，他低沉的声线在他耳朵里显得无比温柔。

只需闭上双眼
太阳已经西沉
你会没事的
如今没有人能伤害你
当明日晨光初现
你我都会安然无恙

“闭上眼睛，Harry。我们必将重逢于早晨。”

~Translated by Maboyong ( 左梦尘 于 2012-8-26 12:17)

Soo... Whadya think? *can't wait to know*

It was fun reading the reviews in chinese (not on ff.net but the password protected site. But ff.nets reviews are still awesome. =D ) especially since I had to twist my brain around a little. I think I sprained a brain muscle somewhere. Some of the reviews had me laughing right out, some said I was a cruel heartless murderer, some had little insights which had me nodding in tandem while the gears in my brain started rolling with ideas the comments gave.

The very first time I'd had a fic translated. And was referred to as "the author".

Definitely an experience I would cherish, if possible, forever. The baby steps in life. Baby steps.

How I wish I could still write like that.

Ahh. All in good time. All in good time.

Sorry. Couldn't resist a last spam pic. Almost vs Always. The basis of most SevvyHarry fanfic. =')

Pretty Voices in the Night

No, I'm not talking about the pretty "voices" some people have heard in the night.

I'm just editing the songlist in the middle of the night.

Seems that I do a lot of things online in the middle of the night these days. A lot of people fear the night, but the night's my own personal hideaway. I like the night, the way everything is quiet, cool, dark, mysterious. It's like the tall dark stranger every romance heroine cannot resist. It's not good for my health, I know, but I can't help it. Everything looks better at night -- the streetlights, the strobe lights, the moonlight. It throws a lonely light onto everything on earth, and reminds you that we are, at the most basic level, alone in life.

Well, except for the mosquitoes that seems intent on feasting on me. Shoo!

I don't know about you, but Day and Night has always seem like real people, people around me. People you see everyday, by the bus station, the school, the roadside. It's like they have their own personalities, and just like the people in your life, there are some you can't live without, some you can't forget, and some who you seek out in different moods.

Night and Day

To me, Day has always been that overly optimistic friend, always enthusiastic, bubbling with energy no matter what time you see her. Day's always jumping up and down calling for your attention with this game or that task. She pulls you out of bed to that shop with the dress she'd set her eyes on, she pulls you to the computer and starts nagging at you to finish your work. Day's the fun friend that gets you through life, that helps you get things done.

But Night? Night's the silent brooding guy, like Darcy, or even Snape, for that matter. He's quiet most of the time, the best listener you can ask for. Sometimes he offers unexpected opinions, helps you figure out your worries, those tangles in the roots that trips you constantly. But Night, he's always so...intense that sometimes just being with him makes you a bit melancholic. It's with him that you begin to think. All those moments you missed out on, the people that you try to bury, the feelings you forget when you're with Day. They all come back in Night's silent reminder. Night's the one who gives you calm, and still makes you face what you don't want to, and sometimes--if you're looking closely enough--he reminds you of the more important things in life. He's steadfast, steady, silent, introspective.

And those beautiful voices?

 I'd grown up around parents who worshipped music and I can't be more thankful for that. (How else would I be so impossibly tangled in those notes and clefs and guitars that are too big for me?) I'd grown up listening to Rod Stewart, Beatles, Celine Dion, Air Supply, Andrea Bocelli; Mozart plays me to sleep, Beethoven angers me, Brahms calms me. And as I grow older and gets stuck in the constantly changing billboards, I became entranced with Bieber (yes, I do like him. His Baby is damningly hard to get out of my head), Adele, Maroon 5. And then came the Youtube Cover singers who rearranged all those songs I like, and made me love them more.

I'd grown up in a large mixing pot of music that I absorb almost any genres of music like a sponge takes to water. And as a consequence, I'd been exposed to so many beautiful voices I can hardly list them all in one night.

Who you are right now depends on who you were then. I guess I grew up on a  vinyl record player. =P

And tonight, as I rack my brains for songs to listen to, my fingers went on autopilot and started keying in songs of my childhood. Oldies. The nineties. The eighties. The seventies. All those voices came rushing back to me through these headphones that keeps slipping away from my head. (Have I mention my abnormally large head? Headphones really really hate my head.)

And I realise how few beautiful voices we have now compared to the past. I mean, Louis Armstrong's rendition of What A Wonderful World is incomparable. His voice is so unique I cannot listen to any other renditions of that song without his voice automatically playing in my head. Celine Dion sure has a pair of awe-inspiring lungs on her. Listening to her belt out All By Myself brings me back to days where I would laze around fiddling with Lego blocks while her CD replays on the HiFi set.

And Andrea? His voice makes me go all gooey inside, like a soothing balm on burnt skin.

Those days. Those sweet, doing nothing days. Oh why did I have to grow up?

But that doesn't mean there aren't any good singers nowadays. Christina Perri with her Thousand Years, Jason Mraz with his I'm Yours, Iron and Wine's Flightless Bird, Ed Sheeran with his Lego House... They make me want to just dive into their world and never resurface. I could spend days just lounging on my bed, eyes closed, and get lost in their worlds while these songs play and play and play.


I do still wish I had days like those. Perhaps after the exams.

How much I hope days were 48-hour long instead of the standard 24.

Songs in the night. Makes you all melancholic and nostalgic.

Ahhhh, I miss home. I miss the freedom to  sleep and wake anytime I want, waking up to familiar warmth, to familiar faces. I miss spontaneous hugs and banters, those dinner chortles, and the usual haggling over who gets to do which chores. I miss curling up against the sofa watching movies, and cuddling up to my sister who keeps pushing me away. I miss having lots and lots of food anytime I want.

"Home is where you are. Wherever you are. Wherever we are."

Reading Moment of Impact (Harry Potter fanfic -- long story, for another time) really has made an impact on me. It really gets you thinking of your priorities, the responsibilities, and the simple pleasures in life.

And right now?

I miss home--my simple, steadfast, unchanging comfort.

But I'm not home, so perhaps I should be contented with this temporary home. After all, home is where the heart is, and me? I suppose my heart is with me right now, right here.

So Far, No Good

Sometimes I wonder if the reason I don't like birthdays is because I have to grow up on those days.

6th of June looms closer and closer, and there's nowhere to run but to face it full on, head to head, chest to chest.

It's almost twenty years. 240 months. 1043.55 weeks. 7304.84 days. 175316 hours.

It's been twenty years. Well almost, anyway. What have I done with my life so far? What have I achieved?

A big, fat, nothing. At least not where it counts.

It's funny how you tend to do things you don't normally do when you're facing what you hate -- exams. Some people go on food binges, some stay up all hours of the night, some go into mood swings, some even go out to places they'd never went before.

Some people, like me, escape into worlds.Worlds that don't really belong to me, because I didn't have to courage to go after them.

Indeed. I really need to chase them instead of waiting for them to fall in front of me, because god knows, not even bird poo would fall in front of me.

The internet really is a powerful tool. It brings people closer, realize dreams, create worlds you'd never thought possible. It also helps you see where you are comparatively, and this time, as I surf through my peers' works, websites, and blogs, I'd seen something I've put off quite some time.

I don't have a dream.

Or rather, I don't have the courage to dream.

Looking back, I've always chosen the easy way out. Give me a choice and I'll always take the one that's easy, the one that cowards choose. It's easier having someone make the choice for you, instead of turning inwards and digging until you find what you want most out of life. And though I haven't many people who are willing to make the choice for me, I haven't been doing my digging. Rather, I'd just follow where others'd tread and follow the path most walked upon.

I remember way back in school we learnt Robert Frost's The Road Not Taken. I'd love that poem. I had entertained the possibilities, the wonder, the satisfaction of taking a road not normally taken. I'd allowed myself a moment of fantasy. But looking back, I realised, even then, wayyy deep down in that tiny pumping heart of mine, I'd never entertained the possibilities of ME taking that road.

Will I? Will I be telling this with a sigh somewhere in ages and ages? Will I look upon the road I chose with regret or rejoice, somewhere in ages and ages?

It's like, my whole life, I've lacked the courage to do something with my life. All those times I had failed in something I'd give myself an excuse. All those times I had a chance to do something, really do something with my life I'd put it off until a tomorrow which never came. And looking back it probably wasn't wise to let it go on until it'd become an instinctual reaction every time I face those opportunities again.

It's like I'd developed an Occlumency barrier, and shoves everything I don't want to admit, everything I don't want to face down there, and present a numb, blank, uncaring outward appearance.

An appearance, a mask, that's already beginning to grow on me and make me another faceless stranger in my own body. Another faceless soul in the midst of the millions of people who walk the earth.

I don't want to be that. I want to be able to look back at my life thirty, forty years from now and not regret a single thing I did. I want to be recognised, to be important, to be someone in life to others.

 I want to be able to say, "I lived."

And right now, I guess I need to face the greatest foe standing in my way. As I'm writing this post it's taking form. It's becoming clearer as to why I'm always running away instead of doing what's right. And I need to take that down instead of letting it ferment and fester inside.

Perhaps it's not only courage I need. Perhaps I also need that diligence I've never really had. I need that perseverance I'd never really possessed. I need to sit myself down and finish that novel I'd started but never finished. I need to sit myself down and really study, for knowledge and not just for tests. I need to hold a pen, a brush, anything and force the patience I never really had into my hand. I need to learn more about what I like most and focus on improving on it, instead of touching the surface of everything but never settling down.

I need to sit myself down and really ask myself, science, art, words or music?

And who else but me can give myself that?

Almost twenty, and still roaming aimlessly. What happened to me?

Dear me-in-the-past, what happened to us?

Right now, I need to ask myself.

What is my dream? What do I want? What do I like? Who am I?

Where do I see myself, twenty years from now?

Would I be where I want to be? Do I even know where I want to be?

And if this... this paralysis of my life continues, how long until I become nothing but another aimless, soulless, dreamless phantom driven by basic needs and nothing else?

One more week to twenty, and so far? No good.

Sometimes I Do Things I'm Not Supposed To

Well, I know there are things I'm not supposed to do
Skipping classes and pranking classmates
Don't walk in dark alleys, don't pull people's hair
Don't simply hide during zombie apocalypses

But they say rules are made to be broken
And some rules just really don't make sense
So I try not to follow each and every rule
And I do things I'm not supposed to do

I fake sick to escape boring classes
I pull pranks just 'cause it's fun and I'm bored
I don't do homework until days after deadlines
And I scream obscenities when I'm seriously pissed

I drum my feet and fingers and eat with my mouth open
I LOL in the library and wipe my mouth on my sleeve
I arrive late for classes, I don't sleep until it's six a.m
I howl off-key to Avril Lavigne at three in the morning

Doing things you're not supposed to do
Heart beats faster, your muscles tremble
But nothing beats the way I feel
When I know I'm not supposed to miss you, but do anyway

Perhaps I should go on doing what I'm not supposed to do
Like I've always did, for nearly twenty years now
But it's not really the same when it comes to you
For this time, I don't really know the rules

What am I supposed to do?
What am I not supposed to do?
How can I do what I'm not supposed to do
When all I know is that I'm not supposed to miss you?