A finger pointed itself at a dress hanging on the display. The finger nail attached to it was flawless. Its smooth, glossy texture reflects light perhaps better than a piece of glass. A tiny, finely detailed head of a mouthless kitty was drawn beneath that glossy layer. The other nails on fingers attached to this one are like identifical clones of the said finger nail. Five stupid looking kitties staring up at the ceiling.
“Look! Look at this pretty dress! I want to buy it! It sure will look good on me. Even if it stinks, or make me look fat, I can always sell it on my blog shop! It was featured on Slops yesterday, so lots of people are coming to my blog shop now!” She narrated, seemingly more to herself than to her bored boyfriend beside her.
Her boyfriend is another piece of art altogether. The weird extruding metallic studs cunningly erected all over his nose, lips, and ears, throws to shame the urban construction plan on any Amercian city. Drawing of spider webs on various parts of his body and a big fat spider on his back betrays his childhood desire to be a spiderman. He lifted his sight which was resting comfortably on a well-proportioned girl at the other end of the shop, and look into the eyes of his girlfriend, who was his first.
“Nah,” he said, “not nice.” He glanced around the dresses on display near him, and pointed to one completely at random. “This looks nice. Why not try this?” he asked. His girlfriend frowned pretendiously, picked up the dress her darling had chosen for her, and proceeded to the fitting room. He gave his long orange hair a quick sweep so that they fall back into place, and folded his arms. Confident that he now looked as cool as can be, he carried on ogling at that girl across the room.
By the time his girlfriend came out from the fitting room, he had one more phone number inside his handphone address book.
—
There were many well-dressed people around. Some were eating ice-cream while they walk. Others were drinking bubble tea. He frowned at them. Youngsters nowadays really are crazy. They can spend $7 on a single scoop of ice-cream, and $2 on a cup of syrup drink. He tried to remember the last time he had his meal. It was 2 days ago. Hopefully, the $50 he hid in his left sock could last time for 3 more weeks before he would need to steal again. Stealing from someone is never pleasant, but he had to feed himself. Afterall, he thought, trying to justify his crime, people nowadays are so rich. What does a little money mean to them? He closed his eyes and soon began to snore. The ground is cold and hard to sleep on, and he had no pillow. But he had already grown used to that. This had been his bed for the last 3 years.
—
His chest still ached from the removal of a tatoo. A tatoo that he happily put on 3 weeks ago when the cute secondary school girl first became his girlfriend. The tatoo had spelt her name.
It was his own bloody fault, he thought. He shouldn’t have gone out with that new girl he met when his ex was trying out the dress he pointed at randomly. Oh well, he thought. His ex was good while it lasted. He had taken everything he could from her as a girl, and he had little to regret in the separation. Besides, he now has an even younger and prettier girlfriend. A new lamb to slaughter, he thought.
—
He dreamt. The moment he realise he was dreaming, he forced himself to wake up. Dreams were like time machine. His past kept coming back to hunt him through it. He hugged himself, shivering from the cold, brought by the charming night breeze that for him was rather like needle poking through his thin and tattered singlet. He felt alone. There was nobody around to give him warmth. From his pocket he took out a tiny keychain. It was a white penguin in its more glorious days, but now it had yellowed considerbly, and had blackened around the edges. Its head was deformed, slanted to the right, and one of its eye had already said bye bye. It gave off a terrible stench, but the man didn’t realise it, for the simple reason that the man’s body also gives off the very same stench.
His vision blurred as he looked at it. Tears flowed down his cheek and made its way to the dry concrete floor, leaving a clearly marked path of its descend on his face. He missed her. She was her first. He failed to treasure her. He remembered the first time he met her. He remembered the first time he made love with her. Unfortunately, he remembered how they seperated, and how his life went downhill from then on.
He prayed once again to god, or whichever higher entity that would care to listen to him, for a reset button which he could press. If given a second chance he would not have done what he did. His new love had landed him in jail. She costed him 3 of his fingers on his right hand. Who could have thought that she was the girlfriend of the leader of the gang in the neighbourhood. The night they came after him after knowing what he had done with her was nightmare. It was that very night that kept hunting him in his dreams.
When the police came they had already fled. While busy adminstrating punches and kicks on him, the gang members had also mananged to plant a small packet of heroin in his trouser pocket. That would mean a death sentence for him. So when the two policemen were about to handcuff him, he fought back, and with a piece of sharp broken glass lying on the floor after the fight, drew blood from them. He then fled.
He looked at the back of his hands. He look at his palm. They were filled with filth. And with blood. He blinked. The blood had disappeared.
He pulled up his “blanket”. A tattered piece of cloth that was once a pretty pink dress. He had been hugging it to sleep every single night. Her smell had long faded from the dress, but hugging it close to him everynight makes him feel like he was with her again.
It still seem to be a long way from morning, so he decided to go back to sleep. He rolled over and try to sleep with his face facing the wall. Within seconds, snores were heard.
Through a big tear hole on the back of his singlet, a spider could be seen.
—
This short story was inspired by random people I saw today at bugis street. Please pardon my typos and grammarical errors.
What do you think of my feeble attempt at short story writing? Please comment. Thank you!
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