Tuesday, May 31, 2011

PSLE: You were on your way home when you saw two boys vandalising on the wall.

It was a really sweltering afternoon.  The intense heat was literally roasting me alive.  Unable to bear the scorching rays, I stumbled into the shade of the void deck.  Hahaha…  Out of the blue, some laughter caught my ears.   Overwhelmed by curiosity, I went to investigate.
Two boys were giggling to each other.  One was tall and gangling and the other, short and rather podgy.  In their hands were spray cans and they were apparently holding an ‘art competition’, in a bid to outdo each other in vandalism.  On the wall were grotesque and obscene graphics.  The sight left me dumbfounded. They were totally unmindful of me.   These hoodlums!  How could they do this?  Righteousness overtook my sensibilities.   I marched forward and slashed out, “You’d better stop what you are doing.”
The gangling one advanced towards me and snarled, “None of your business, you busybody!”
The obese one bristled, “One more word from you and I will turn you into a punching bag.”  Both of them broke into fits of taunting laughter. 
I clenched my fist so tightly that my knuckles turned white and my veins showed.  I dug out my mobile and punched three numbers.  “Hello, is this the police…” Before I could finish my sentence, the tall youth grabbed my phone and smashed it on the floor.  The LCD screen cracked and the components broke into pieces.  As if that was not bad enough, the plump one spewed some vulgarities at me and - plunged his dagger into my abdomen. 
Blood instantly oozed out from the gaping wound.  My face blanched in trepidation as I stared speechless at them.  Pain coursed through my body and I leaned precariously to one side, trying to apply pressure on the wound to staunch the blood flow.  Finally, I stumbled forward and collapsed to the floor. 
“That would teach you a lesson for being a busybody!”  They jeered and fled the scene, leaving me to bleed to death.
I lay there, slipping in and out of consciousness, praying fervently that help would come soon.  At the defining moment, I heard familiar footsteps.  It was my older brother Ethan, who had just returned from school.   Stunned at my ghastly sight, he immediately called the ambulance.  Next, he swooped me up in his bosom and clutched my hands in a death grip. 
“Please don’t die, Cordell.  Please,” he pleaded.  I gave him a weak smile and fainted.  The incessant siren wailed in the air.  The paramedics whipped us off to the nearest hospital in a heartbeat.
At the hospital, I arrived in the nick of time and an emergency operation saved my life.  I gave the police a statement.  I later learnt that the assailants had gotten in close shave with the law before and were subsequently arrested.  Even though they had hurt me and damaged my phone, I bore no resentment.  Unforgiveness can never heal any wounds.  I just wished wholeheartedly that they would turn over a new leaf.

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"If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away."

Henry David Thoreau