#KLNoir

noir noun /ˈnwär/
1. crime fiction featuring hard-boiled cynical characters and bleak sleazy settings.

--@--

Asian Angel was the name they gave him.

They didn't know his age. They didn't know his story. They only knew he looked like a teenager.

He didn't know his age. He didn't know his own story. He only knew he didn't feel like a teenager.

He was as Asian as any other Chinaman roaming the streets of KL, but he was also different. His skin was white with a brush of pink at all the right places. His face was much too beautiful to be a boy's, but when they stripped him naked, there was no denying he was a man.

They found him wandering the dank alleys of Chow Kit. They scrubbed the grime off his skin and threw away his tattered, blood-stained clothes. They gave him angel wings and shoved him into dimly-lit rooms that reeked of sin and sex.

The men were much older. And most of them had cocks buried in layers of fat. Gwailos, hajis (Arabs, Egyptians, he couldn't tell the difference), and the occasional Mamak with serious money. They were rough, they were gentle, they wanted to be on top, they wanted him to be on top. The people who found him gave him blue pills that kept him up for hours. Sometimes it still stood up when he was flat on his back, asleep.

Every night when he was done, he returned to his room with broken wings.

Every night before he started, they gave him new wings.

He couldn't remember his past no matter how he tried.

He couldn't forget his present no matter how he tried.

He was sixteen. That much he knew.

He was an angel with broken wings.

--@--

No. That wasn't an excerpt of the story I have in the anthology, but an entry I submitted for the KL Noir flash fiction competition. That didn't get selected. Bummer.

Anyway.

The flash fic above, it's one of my grittier, dirtier pieces, and I don't do gritty and dirty. Did I hope to win? Sure. I don't win anything much, and I need a break. More than winning, however, I was immensely grateful that I was able to write some fiction, even if the piece was less than 300 words. I've hit a dry spell, these last few months. Ultimately, this feels like a story worth exploring and expanding.

The story that I have in KL Noir: Red is titled "Kiss from a Rose". It originally existed as a flash fiction of about 800 words, tentatively accepted for publication at Esquire Malaysia. Until they decided it was too risque. You should see the illustration meant to accompany the story.

Amir Muhammad wanted me to write something dirty, which would suit the magazine's readership. As I said, I don't do gritty and dirty, and in writing the story, I explored uncharted territory. The exploration left me feeling tainted. When they decided not to publish it, I was partly relieved, to be honest. I was prepared to shelf it, let it hide in the depths of my storage, collecting cyber-dust.

Until Amir Muhammad SMSed me, inquiring whether I'd sold the story elsewhere. When I said I had not, he asked whether I could expand the story for an anthology he was planning to publish. I guess he must have loved "Kiss from a Rose", and did not want for it to be left forgotten. He wanted the story within one week, but he caught me at a wrong time. Calls were bad, and work was hectic. I only managed to actually sit down and write the story slightly past the deadline (sorry, Amir).

The original story made me feel dirty because the protagonist was a jerk. I knew that. So I took what was inherently wrong and made it right, even though the final product is far from "right". I studied the protagonist deeper, let him ramble in my head. My characters tend to do that, and I encourage them. Then I discovered what was wrong with him.

He's a sociopath. Not simply neurotic, like most of my characters, like me, but actually psychotic, without a shread of insight. The story unravelled from there, and within one night the current incarnation of the story was written. It was a good thing that America was half a world away, because I got to bug Breanna to beta read the story at 4 in the morning (my time) without feeling guilty. And without having to wait long. Breanna agreed that the she hated the protagonist in the first version, but in the second version, he became compelling. I emailed the edited version and promptly fell asleep, tired but satisfied.

Fast forward a few months. Amir gave me the edited version. I hated it. All the bits that brought out the protagonist's voice were cut off. No. Butchered. All the bits that made him...well...him. Gone. I kept on typing "Suggest to keep the original", my fingers jabbing at the keyboard with increasing ferocity.

Alhamdulillah, Amir Muhammad proves he's the kind of editor who respects his writers. The proof he sent me had the protagonist's voice intact. He was again a sociopath, and not just another jerk.

I don't know if you'll love the story, or even tolerate it, but I can safely say that I am proud of "Kiss from a Rose". However, I won't be surprised if my Facebook and email will be spammed by two groups: one imploring that I repent and to be a respectful and dutiful little Muslim, and the other gnawing my head off for not being a respectful and dutiful little Muslim.

Oh well.

I can't wait to read all the stories in the anthology. The lineup is amazing. I am honored to be in the presence of wonderful writers such as Dina Zaman, Kow Shih-Li, Lee Eeleen, Dayang Noor, Megat Ishak and others.

The book launch will be later today at Kinokuniya KLCC.

DRAT I CANNOT ATTEND AS I AM AT KOTA BHARU BEING A DUTIFUL MASTER STUDENT!

Ehem. The book launch, reading session by the writers, as well as autographing and photographing will take place between 20:00 and 21:15 (which can extend further if you offer to buy them dinner. Maybe). I won't be there, but you should.

I don't know if you'll love my story or hate it. I don't know if you'll find it blah.

I just hope you'll read it.

And the rest of the book, of course.