Once upon a time……

Ok that's a very lame start for a story.

Let's think of a new one.

Far, far away, there….

This doesn't look very original as well.

Hmm… how shall I start on this piece of essay?

Hi readers. I am Kun.

to some who know me, whether as a friend or a stranger, I am quite well known as a no-common-sense guy. I do not execute actions normally like what a normal human being would do. I eat the grossest food, I play the most disgusting toys, I read the most illegible books upside down in reverse order, I bathe in tubs of ammonia solutions every seventh hour of the day and in ethanol mixed with aqueous iodine at the nineteenth hour of the day.

Sounds weird? Maybe, maybe not.

However, the weirdest thing to me is that I see things people do not see.

Not what you at first instinct thought of. Not that.

It is something else.

I do not know how to describe it also.

Maybe my chain of events may serve as stepping-stones to get the "strange ability" across to you.

Let me lead you through my past.

Date: 1982, 4th April

Time: 0645hrs

Place: Mt. Raynard, 4413i metres above sea level

Let me lead you through my past.

I was as if I came out from a stone; my parents fell into a grave and died straight inside when I was born. It all happened like this: My father was trying relentlessly to get me out of my mother's womb, not realising that they were doing so at a dangerous position. I mean, literally; they were doing so at the side of a CLIFF! And so… it was rather miraculous for me to be lying beside them and they, unfortunately, slipped and down the heights they went. I am not spitting nonsense here, but if you would ask me how I knew about that, well, I am asking myself that question too. It was just… a miracle, an unfortunate miracle.

I remembered being drenched in my mother's V-juice (readers who wonder what this is, please don't bother to know. P) and membrane blood (ok this may not exist to you, but it so happened to my mother… anyway mine is a real weirdo family.) and watching helplessly as they slowly buried themselves down the seemingly bottomless pit into a microscopic dot some 1000i metres below. The greenery below closed the view to the last moments of these last two dots soon after that. All I could do then, was to cry, and cry, and cry, as the first few moments of my life, supposedly to be the greatest moments, was ironically filled with the "GREATEST MOMENTS" indeed…

I froze. For the next few hundred hours. Staring into that blank space below which turned from green to black to green continuously, day after day, night after night. I grabbed weeds beside me to munch on, which was of course smeared with membrane blood and V juice. At that point of time, I guess that was the only thing my mother could give me in her lifetime, and in mine. And finally, I recovered from a solid 195 hours of shock. I sat up. Dropped my tears for the last time (hopefully) in my life. I plucked all my mental and physical potentials. Hoisted my body up with my wobbly legs. I was stunned at this special achievement of mine. Being able to stand up a mere 195 hours after birth. Well…

I was alone. Since the day I watched the tragedy of my parents I knew it's either I scavenge their will to survive and pump myself the will to live on, or I follow suit. I was surprised, looking back, at the level of thought and maturity I was in, being able to think about such noble concepts about life. Of course, I chose the former, or else how come I could tell you all these today.

I learnt everything all by myself. There was just no mobile living thing (ok, except for hardcore creatures that can survive the altitude) I can pick up skills from. I was dependent, on myself. Maybe that explains my uncommon-sensical nature. I walk on four legs, I sleep in push up position, I gather wood by burning soil, I cough with my ears, I kick grass into the air and catch it with my mouth, … it was a eccentric yet enlightening experience for me.

When I was young, I could only grab weeds and grass around my vicinity and munch on to fill my stomach. As I grow older, I ate more, and flora was decreasing at an increasing rate. It's time I scout further from my home. Little did I realize I scouted all the way down 4413i metres down. You may say I learnt to climb mountains the very time I went down Mt. Raynard. My life began to change after that.

For the first time, and the last time, I left my house. I never went back again.

There was literally no path, as if in the history of mankind only the 3 of us had been there. The biting cold was unbearable to any normal human being, except for my already gone parents and I. The low stratospheric pressures would not appeal to any rock-climbers too. And it was because of this that I had to create a "legendary" path down this wavering range.

I dismantled the house, which is being there for almost 37 years. Every piece of wood taken off this cold yet cozy home of mine sent jelly-like tears down my greenish cheeks. As I packed all the stuff dismantled from my house and compressed it into a strong, solid cube, I was ready to leave all (tear-inducing) memories. Yup. Ready to face the new world, far different from a loner's.