story in progress
forgotten. do you know how it feels to be forgotten, to be cast into the shadows while everyone turns their backs on your cries? do you know how it feels to be left in dusty boxes of memories as time ticks by? perhaps its time to start thinking.
We’re an island; yet we are indeed remarkable, and we do have a bustling economy. Simply by walking down the streets on a weekend, the number of foreigners we would find chatting animately as they hurry past us, we’d notice how well our tourism industry is going. Yes, we are indeed an economical fortress, yet what about our virtues? Love, compassion, friendship, these are things we are missing out on. With the gradual increase in the pace of daily lives, we have become runners, competitors, forced to pit ourselves against time, leaving all feelings and thoughts to the wind, to the monochrome past.
Bare light bulbs snowed the quiet void deck with luminance as faint chinese music played on the old radio. The round table adorned with pure white shades were garnished with cracked melon seeds and sweet wrappers. The wind blew from the rusty old fan as family members floated about the area trapped within bubbles of misery, carrying the heavy chains of thoughts of demise on their frail backs. Just like a camera shot, amongst the weeping and the restless motion of the others, an old man clad in a white cotton shirt stood before the brown rectangular box resting calmly above white silky cloth. Perhaps he had been crying, perhaps he had been stifling his tears; his eyes glimmered in the light as he placed his wrinkly hand on the casket.
He sat there perched as his favourite spot in the dimly lit house – his rocking chair. Perhaps the rocking motion felt like waves lapping against the sand; The periodic motion seemed to set his heart at peace, allowing him to take his thoughts off the hurt of losing his wife. As much as she had been his pillar of strength, this motion served as a temporary remedy from his grief. Yet after two weeks, he finally smiled. A faint smile showed on his wrinkled face as he chuckled softly to himself. Since she left, things changed. You could say that she had been the one who held the family together, just like how intricate ribbons embraced a bag of marbles, curling itself beautifully into a knot; she would bring the family together. Yet her leaving loosened the ribbons leaving them in an unbound dead knot as it watched helplessly at the marbles falling onto the ground, some falling apart, some rolling off into other directions. Perhaps thats what happened to them. He, he had broken into pieces. The news had broken his crystal heart into fragments, leaving them scattered on the ground to be picked up. yet no one ever did. his family? they became estranged zombies, living aimless lives. They’d rush in and out of the house listless, leaving the old man to live in misery in his corner.
As he watched, a smile crept out.