PSLE: Theft at Night Market

P5 You were at a night market with your brother when he suddenly took off running.

The night market was bustling with life.  The aroma of delicious food lingered in the air.  The sizzling sound of deep-frying was mingled with the bargaining voices of stallholders.  “What shall we eat? I am famished,” I grumbled as I walked. “Shall we get our favourite chicken wings?” James, my elder brother asked, with a twinkle in his eyes.  I smiled and kept nodding my head.

As we meandered through the boisterous crowd,  the noise around us reached a deafening level.  Just then, a scrawny teenager caught my attention.  He was dressed in black attire and there was a dragon tattoo on his neck.  There was even a scar at the corner of his right eye.    His small beady eyes were darting from side to side.  Steathily, he followed behind a middle-aged lady who was busy talking on the phone.  Seizing the opportunity, he grabbed her Louis Vuitton wallet and fled like the wind.

Wasting no time, James took off and yelled, “Stop!  You thief!” The crowd halted and stared in astonishment.  My brother was hot on his heels!  However, the thief was even faster.  Unfortunately, Lady Luck was not on his side.  The crook tripped and fell just beside me.  Yes!  I was about to clap my hands in triumph when the thief immediately picked himself up and whipped out a flick-knife, pressing its sharp edge against my neck, “Don’t come near me!  Or else, I will kill him!” Beads of perspiration dotted my forehead and my heart beat louder and louder.   I thought I was done for!   Everyone started moving away.  All except my brother.  “Let him go,” he barked. In fear, I started sobbing.  “Please don’t hurt me!”  I pleaded. The thief roared, “Shut up!” Enraged by what was happening, my brother suddenly charged toward the thief and flew a punch at him.  Startled, the crook fell to the ground, writhing in agony.

By this time, the wail of the siren reverberated through the air.  Obviously, someone had notified the police.  The  police handcuffed him and dragged him to the car.

I hugged my brother tightly and tears of relief and joy welled up in my eyes and wet my shirt.  “Everything’s okay!”  my brother crooned, ruffling my hair affectionately.  “Shall we get our chicken wings now?” I nodded in-between tears.  Boys do cry, I had learnt.  Boys do cry.