The forgetful inspired
yue_tsuki aka Deb inspired me with her awesome story last night.
Plus I was in a terrible mood this noon [I'm feeling slightly better now but still in a bad mood] so the following short story got churned out. As you all probably would have known, I tend to do this especially after I've experienced those f-up moods. Haha. Just that this time round I'm still feeling stressed even after I've finished my story. Shall go eat something sweet to raise my happiness level later.
She shut the thick book and closed her eyes for a short rest. The story had left such a deep impression on her that she could picture the gory scenes the moment her eyes closed. It was too hurting, too tragic, too realistic, too unethical.
They were not allowed to forget.
It’s said that the older a person gets, the more forgetful the person becomes. In the book the lead had waited so long, planned so well, done so much, just to catch the adults’ attention for that mere few minutes. What she did to her own feeble body was irreversible. She thought she had succeeded. The adults were reminded of her babysitter who too jumped and died two years ago. The adults remembered the shock they had when the poor girl fell from the building and broke her head two years ago. History repeated itself, right in front of them. How could they forget?
They were not allowed to forget.
She woke up from her nightmare. She must have engrossed herself too much in the new book she bought few days ago that she dreamt about the story. Only that she wasn’t the main character. She was one of the witnesses.
The ringing of phone distracted her from her thoughts. She was almost late for her volunteering sessions in the orphanage.
Kids were scattered all over the tiny playground at the backyard of the orphanage. They were attempting to hide themselves behind different objects so that the catcher wouldn’t discover them. Hide-and-seek was one the most popular games in the centre. A small boy suddenly decided to change his hiding place and rushed towards a big pot of flowers but toppled as he tripped over a pebble on the ground. She caught the boy just before he smashed his dedicate face against the rough ground. The boy looked up, recognised her and shouted to his other friends, announcing the arrival of their favorite volunteer. Soon she was bombarded by many greetings and waving hands indicating the wish for cuddles.
Children always make her smile. Genuine smile, that is. They are the only angels on earth with pure souls. They’re the only innocent ones but often the pitiable ones. Parents who chose to create new lives and then destroy them are unforgivable. She never could comprehend how they could be so heartless. The title of the book immediately rang a bell.
They were not allowed to forget. Maybe they’re just forgetful.
Someone tapped her shoulders. A fellow volunteer held out her mobile phone on his hand, telling her to answer the call. She answered it reluctantly. She hated the caller.
“Yes?” She paused for the other party to continue. “Fine.”
With that she left the orphanage and headed to her next destination, her kids trailing behind her until the security guards at the exit pushed them back. She waved and promised to visit them the following day, her genuine smile still on her face.
Yet the genuine smile vanished almost instantaneously once she reached the home. The home she detested to visit. The home only filled with stenches of disinfectant mixed with urines and vomits, something that made her feel sick.
She entered the room labeled with familiar names but unfamiliar faces. The old man stared at her blankly, his chin covered with saliva. The retarded face irked her so much she wished she could cover it with a mask. She pulled a chair beside the bed, sat on it and glared at the man. If she could leave him on the streets she would gladly kick him aside. However, the law forbids her so. One of the nurses stopped by the bed and handed her the tray of food. His lunch. She smiled, an incredibly sweet smile that no one would have guessed it was phony.
She lifted the spoon filled with meshed rice and waited for his mouth to open before shoving it. One day she would sneak into the kitchen and poison the food. No. She would not. It would be too easy a death. She moved towards to him and whispered.
“I won’t let you forget this so easily. You are not allowed to forget.”
Plus I was in a terrible mood this noon [I'm feeling slightly better now but still in a bad mood] so the following short story got churned out. As you all probably would have known, I tend to do this especially after I've experienced those f-up moods. Haha. Just that this time round I'm still feeling stressed even after I've finished my story. Shall go eat something sweet to raise my happiness level later.
She shut the thick book and closed her eyes for a short rest. The story had left such a deep impression on her that she could picture the gory scenes the moment her eyes closed. It was too hurting, too tragic, too realistic, too unethical.
They were not allowed to forget.
It’s said that the older a person gets, the more forgetful the person becomes. In the book the lead had waited so long, planned so well, done so much, just to catch the adults’ attention for that mere few minutes. What she did to her own feeble body was irreversible. She thought she had succeeded. The adults were reminded of her babysitter who too jumped and died two years ago. The adults remembered the shock they had when the poor girl fell from the building and broke her head two years ago. History repeated itself, right in front of them. How could they forget?
They were not allowed to forget.
She woke up from her nightmare. She must have engrossed herself too much in the new book she bought few days ago that she dreamt about the story. Only that she wasn’t the main character. She was one of the witnesses.
The ringing of phone distracted her from her thoughts. She was almost late for her volunteering sessions in the orphanage.
Kids were scattered all over the tiny playground at the backyard of the orphanage. They were attempting to hide themselves behind different objects so that the catcher wouldn’t discover them. Hide-and-seek was one the most popular games in the centre. A small boy suddenly decided to change his hiding place and rushed towards a big pot of flowers but toppled as he tripped over a pebble on the ground. She caught the boy just before he smashed his dedicate face against the rough ground. The boy looked up, recognised her and shouted to his other friends, announcing the arrival of their favorite volunteer. Soon she was bombarded by many greetings and waving hands indicating the wish for cuddles.
Children always make her smile. Genuine smile, that is. They are the only angels on earth with pure souls. They’re the only innocent ones but often the pitiable ones. Parents who chose to create new lives and then destroy them are unforgivable. She never could comprehend how they could be so heartless. The title of the book immediately rang a bell.
They were not allowed to forget. Maybe they’re just forgetful.
Someone tapped her shoulders. A fellow volunteer held out her mobile phone on his hand, telling her to answer the call. She answered it reluctantly. She hated the caller.
“Yes?” She paused for the other party to continue. “Fine.”
With that she left the orphanage and headed to her next destination, her kids trailing behind her until the security guards at the exit pushed them back. She waved and promised to visit them the following day, her genuine smile still on her face.
Yet the genuine smile vanished almost instantaneously once she reached the home. The home she detested to visit. The home only filled with stenches of disinfectant mixed with urines and vomits, something that made her feel sick.
She entered the room labeled with familiar names but unfamiliar faces. The old man stared at her blankly, his chin covered with saliva. The retarded face irked her so much she wished she could cover it with a mask. She pulled a chair beside the bed, sat on it and glared at the man. If she could leave him on the streets she would gladly kick him aside. However, the law forbids her so. One of the nurses stopped by the bed and handed her the tray of food. His lunch. She smiled, an incredibly sweet smile that no one would have guessed it was phony.
She lifted the spoon filled with meshed rice and waited for his mouth to open before shoving it. One day she would sneak into the kitchen and poison the food. No. She would not. It would be too easy a death. She moved towards to him and whispered.
“I won’t let you forget this so easily. You are not allowed to forget.”