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Friday, April 11, 2008
One Fine Day {5:58 AM}
A little something I wrote.
p/s Elton. Wat poems??!!
One Fine Day
It was a bright and sunny day. The unblemished Sun peeked through the cotton-fluffy clouds in rays of brilliant golden hues, while the vast azure sky spread across the emerald fields like a benevolent guardian deity. Trees smooth of bark and rich of leaves bloomed tender white flowers, drawing doves the colour of snow to make themselves home upon the branches and sing sweet songs, paying the highest of tributes to the bounty and beauty of Nature.
In short, the day was so happy-happy perfect, it was enough to drive anyone insane.
But then again, I always thought that sanity was for the weak.
I was walking in the park with a girl named Aria. We were doing research for a project, which was something about the friendliness and camaraderie of the locals. It was a Community Get-Together Movement that for some unfathomable reasons parents wanted their children to join. So that was why I was walking about in the park when I could be reading, or playing computer games.
Aria was a girl with the face to launch a thousand ships, it being the approximate size and shape of a French champagne bottle. She was as slender as a twig and has immensely attractive hair. Attractive to earthworms, that is, since it bore the fetching colour of mud.
Enough descriptions already. Time to move on with the story.
In order to immerse ourselves deeper and thus understand to a more profound level the friendliness of the locals, we decided to join in with the proletariats, um, I mean, the Citizens of the Community, bathing in the sunshine. Aria went off in a game of soccer with a group of children about my age whom I did not know, and cared even less, while I sat under a towering tree to meditate. The cheerful, idyllic atmosphere created an ideal environment to harness my karma to its fullest extent, and I did so gladly. Within no time I surrendered to the pulling forces of my self-energy, and fell blissfully into my inner peace.
Aria suddenly and rudely shook me out of my meditation. ‘Wake up,’ she told me. ‘You’re drooling.’ Well. Inner peace, quick nap. What’s the difference?
As Aria was thirsty after her game of soccer, we decided to head to the nearby café, which was, unfortunately, quite a long way away from the park. So we took a short cut instead. Yes, a short cut, through – you guessed it – an old, abandoned alleyway, one of the last that survived the Community’s slum clearance measures. It was a relic from the past, mostly untouched, so that people can gawk at how backward things used to be, and how good things now are.
As it was not a dark and stormy night, and lightning didn’t flash as thunder didn’t roar, we felt moderately secure. So we strolled casually through the alleyway, which was decorated cheerfully with dust and cobwebs. Despite its eye-catching décor, the alleyway was still bustling with activity: various tribes of mold and fungus battled keenly for the walls while senates of rats held discussion in their forums. Occasionally, a rat would be tossed off their version of the Tarpeian Rock (it was a drain pipe) and its body would then be carried off by a legion of ants using tiny, rolling toothpicks. I had the sudden feeling that I was walking into an entirely different world, one that was not human, but was nevertheless as multifaceted and intricate as our own.
Just when I was thinking such deep and weighty thoughts, I suddenly had the unexpected feeling that I was being watched. Evidently, Aria must have felt it too, because when I quickened my footsteps, she followed me without asking. But however fast I walked, the malevolent feel of watching eyes behind my back grew stronger, not weaker, with every step.
Without warning I felt a cold, sharp thing pressed against my nape. I started, and saw Aria turn, look at me, her eyes widening with shock. Suddenly a frightening thought dawned upon me.
‘Don’t tell me,’ I thought with uncomprehending horror, ‘don’t tell me that this is another one of those cheesy, mass produced and clichéd piece of rubbish wherein I would be ambushed by a vile robber, fought against the villain bravely and finally triumphing against all odds? Oh no, this is too awful to contemplate!’
Sure enough, the vile robber started talking.
‘Drop…drop all your va…valuables.’ Here, after this long and complex speech, the voice broke into a respite of uncontrollable coughing. ‘If your friend…runs, you die.’ I almost pitied the poor sod, hearing that terrible wheezing.
However, in spite of the villain’s awe-inspiring respiratory system, there was still an inconvenient piece of metal pressed against my throat that I had to consider.
I’d very much liked to say that, at this point of the story’s climax, what followed after the speech was pregnant with suspense. In fact, I would love to say that I was battling with my conscience, and, finally, without the slightest regard for personal safety, leaping valiantly at the robber in my selfless desire to protect Aria. I’d absolutely loved to say that.
I dropped my wallet, handphone and pointed to Aria. ‘She’s the rich one,’ I told my unseen acquaintance. ‘Thirty-first Maple Street, condominium. Big and very nice; you can’t miss it.’
‘My knight in shining armor,’ Aria muttered sourly.
‘Pardon? What did you say just now? I didn’t hear,’ I replied, listening to the faint sound of scrabbling as the unknown person picked up my belongings.
The sound of scrabbling stopped. The cold metal was lifted off my neck. I heard footsteps shuffling from me towards Aria.
‘Drop…drop all your va…valuables.’ The voice repeated, this time to Aria. ‘If your friend…’
Before the robber could finish the speech, I took off immediately, running as fast as I could. Behind me I heard a thump, a shout, and then the sound of a body falling onto the wet pavement. I ran on faster.
After that I heard a shout: ‘Oi, Mr Valiant, it’s okay now! The bandit’s down!’
I turned back and, to my disbelief, I saw Aria standing triumphant over the robber. The robber was knocked out cold before she could utilize her weapon, as a result to Aria’s fortunate skill in martial arts. But as I looked at the robber that Aria took out, I felt my delight slipping away. Our vile villain was no more than an old woman, rheumy of eyes and stick thin, pathetically scrawny in the torn rags that she wore for clothes. One of her hand clutched a tin opener while the other held my belongings in what I strongly suspected to be a begging bowl.
Later, after she was carted off to jail, I found out that she had originally come from a lower-middle class family. Her son, grown from dubious education without even graduating from secondary school, got addicted to drugs, and then, when he was caught by the authorities, was sentenced to life in prison. Harsh, but there you go; it’s all for the greater good.
Too old for jobs when the tragedy happened, the old woman took to begging in the streets, and when even that was prohibited, she had to resort to violent robbery as the only way to survive. As far as I had heard, this was her first and most probably last time.
These we compiled together as our project, but after we sent it to the Community Panel for a Project Overall Review, our hard work was barred from entering the competition on the grounds of ‘incongruous information.’
Humph. I know there should be a moral hidden in here, somewhere, but for the life of me I just can’t figure out what it was.
