Continuous Writing
I burrowed deep into the sand just as the sky brightened. It bled red as the sun crept over the horizon, like as silent murderer. The cool night breeze took its final breath of life just before the burning heat of day took over.
Snuggling into the warm moist pits of the sand, I prepared to hit the hay, or sand in this case, after a long and exhausting night of scavenging for morsels of food. Unfortunately, my lucky stars were not shining that day.
My consciousness was ebbing away and with each clash of the salty waters and sandy shores, which was music to my ears, I stranded further into slumber land. A harsh screech of tyres that reverberated through the beach dragged me from my groggy state. Opening my eyes a slit, I peered out from the safety of the sand and what I saw did not please me even in the slightest. A school bus full of children appeared before me and I instantly knew that my plans to recharge had gone down the drain.
I sighed as the pestering kids alighted from the bus. Some of them seemed excited while others looked like the walking dead. But one thing they all had in common, there was no such thing as “consideration” in their dictionary. All of them talked at the top of their voices, eradicating any last hopes I had left for sleep.
I felt completely helpless, like an empty paper bag, drifting only where the winds brought me. What could I possibly do? I was just a creature of lesser creation in the eyes of a human. As dangerous as my pincers were, the humans outsized me a hundred to one. I had no choice but to wait out.
So I began to wait, attentively scrutinizing the movements of the humans, just in case I had to take aggressive measures. A tall authoritative-looking figure convened the children before him and started to give instructions, I presumed, for I could only see his mouth moving. Then the children jumped into action.
The only thing I felt for these humans was annoyance, but now fear was mounting up. The humans had armed themselves with humongous plastic bags and “metal pincers”! Are they here to catch me just like the ones that took the lives of my brothers and sisters? Once that thought had entered my mind, there was no leaving.
Fear, like a python with a prehensile tail, throttled me, leaving me breathless. My heart palpitated heavily against my shell, and the drumming of my heart ringed in my ears. After the shock, I had only one desperate thought left – hide. Using my two last legs, I burrowed frantically, determined to stay out of even the peripheral view of the humans.
A boy wearing a cap walked towards me, he wore a notorious grin on his face. “Finally, a pathetic animal to bully…” was all that I heard before the boy pulled me by my glorious gleaming claw, which must not have been buried, out from my peaceful home.
Anger fuelled me. These so-called “advanced-life forms” dare disrupt my sleep, try to catch me and now treat me like a play thing! That was the last straw. I clamped my claw tightly around his little pink finger. I guest the humans have no outer protection as the boy ululated out loud as affliction grew in his little pinky. He tried to shake me off but I clamped tighter. Some compassionate humans looked at him with concern but others guffawed at the boy’s misfortune.
The tall figure who was talking rushed to him and tried to prise me off. I held on for a few seconds longer before deciding that I was satisfied with my sweet vengeance and made my way to the sea. Luckily, the humans fixed their attention on the boy. As the blessed waves washed over me, I smiled with satification.
An Accident
My birthday. It is the day where you are supposed to rejoice being brought into the world. It is the day where you receive presents from your close friends and families. However, it is a day where all those painful, painful memories come back to me. No matter how hard I try or my father reassures me, I just cannot let it go. How could I? After all the blame weighed on me.
A year ago, on my birthday …
The sun was shining brightly in the azure blue sky, which was dotted with white puffy clouds. I was impatiently waiting for my mother outside a shop in a shopping mall. I was staring at the dolls – their long blonde golden hair and their big blue eyes, in the display window, just yearning for my parents to get me one as a present. “Where is she?” I thought irritatingly, my mother’s snail-like pace was like an itch I could not reach. I fished out my phone and thumbed a message to my mother, rushing her to reach me.
After another ten minutes or so of adoring the dolls, I heard a deafening screech of tyres that reverberated throughout the street. I swiveled round and instantly, my world froze … no, it shattered. My world shattered into a million pieces which could never ever be put back together. The cars on the road came to an abrupt halt, blocked by a black Mercedes, blood staining its hood. A few metres away, my… my mother who was clutching a plastic bag, lay motionless on the ground.
I could not breathe, I tried to scream but all that came out was a squeak. I felt like I was on water, the pain, the shock and the fear pulling me down, dragging me to my watery grave, I could not live without my mother. Only the thought that maybe, just maybe, my mother was not dead would pull me out of the water.
I made my way towards my mother. Every step I took, I kept praying my mother would be alright. My mother loved me and she was the one that I had always turned to in times of both happiness and sadness. She had taken care of me from young and we had a special affinity. At night, when I had bad dreams it was she who comforted me. She could not be dead.
My eyes must have deceived me. I could feel my doubt increasing ever so rapidly, but I ran faster, determined to prove myself to myself that my mother was not the person lying downwards.
Once I inched nearer, I could see the dark red liquid that ran in rivulets around the body, seeping into the road. Squatting down, I saw familiar-looking face, the kind eyes that always contained love for me were now staring lifelessly into space. There were deep bruises and dents all over her body.
“No! Mum!” I shouted as I picked up my mother’s lifeless body, hugging it close to my chest.
I tried to stem the blood from her wounds with my hands, hoping against hope that she could still be alive. However, her body was limp like a rag doll. I kept touching her face and screaming out for her but for the first time in my life, she did not respond to my cries. Blood stained my pristine shirt as I continued wailing.
Eventually, the police prised me from my mother’s body. It was only then did I notice the plastic bag. What could have been so important that my mother gave up her life? A flattened birthday cake greeted me. A wave of realisation struck me. The message. My mother must have been late buying the cake and after she saw my message, she rushed and the Mercedes … and … and … I felt as though I had been stabbed in the heart, the pain was unbearable. Tears poured down my cheeks.
And now, I feel horrible, horrible about myself, horrible about my impatience, horrible about typing THAT message. A little waiting would not have killed me, but a little hurrying killed my mother. I would never be able to forgive myself.
Every year on my birthday, I would pay my respect to my mother. The accident was indeed a terrible one for me, however, it taught me how to treasure the time I have with people around me and learn to spend more quality time with my remaining kins, my father and my sister.
Continuous Writing
The afternoon was hot and humid. It was one of those days when being outside under the scorching sun was sheer torture, sending one running to seek refuge within the cool confines of any air-conditioned enclave. I had just been dismissed from school on one such afternoon when a short walk to my block left me streaming in perspiration.
I trudged across the dry, solid cement floor, protected from the sun’s rays by the shelter of the void deck, my elephantine bag slowing me down. Even though the temperature was just as high, it was infinitely much better than being under the direct wrath of the cruel sun. The sound of muffled sobbing snapped me from my ruminations about school and all of my thoughts were replaced with one – where was the sound coming from? Curios, I explored my surroundings like a detective until I reached the source of the sounds. I was utterly stupefied when I saw my classmate Jane with her head down on the stone table, her hair worse than Medusa’s – totally disheveled, and her whole body shaking with heavy sobs.
Should I leave her alone? Or should I ask her what was wrong? I pondered over the questions and sat on the fence for a while before I decided to approach her.
In a low and gentle tone, I asked,” Jane, are you alright? What is wrong? Is there anything I can do to help?”
Jane lifted her head and my heart instantly went out to her. Her eyes were filled with sorrow and tears streamed down her cheeks like Niagara Falls
I was dumbstruck by the shocking new. I did not know what to do but put my arms around her shoulder to offer some comfort. I felt tears brimming in my eyes too, waiting to be dropped like bombs. I had never felt so helpless in my life. Jane’s gradually crying and for ten minutes, we sat in pin-drop silence. Eventually, I broke the silence and told her, “Jane, I’m sure the doctors will do their very best to treat your mother. You have to stay strong.” That was all I could think of to make her feel better. I wished I could do more to comfort her.
“Jane? Jane! Where are you? I need to take you to the hospital to see your mother,” came Jane’s father’s voice in deep extreme sorrow,” for the last time.”
I could see her tears coming back as she stood up to follow her father. She mouthed the words “Thank You” to me and left. I realised my simple act of kindness might actually come a long way to helping Jane get across this traumatic obstacle. She will know that there will always be someone by her side and she will not be alone.
No comments:
Post a Comment