PSLE: Terrorists' Attack

My cherubic face was grinning from ear to ear as I entered the cinema with Dad. It was my tenth birthday and this was the very first time I caught a movie with my dad. We groped to our seats as the smell of buttery popcorn wafted in the cool air. Exuberance bubbled in me as we waited impatiently for the blockbuster to start. “Dad, when is the show going to begin?” I asked, squirming excitedly in my seat. “Soon, Son,” Father replied, his white teeth glittering in the dark. I was all smiles as elation rushed through me when the movie finally started.

Kaboom! A loud deafening blast resounded through the air and my ears ached and rang uncontrollably. What could it be? Fear overwhelmed me as I clutched my hand with Dad's in a death grip. In a split second, three dark shadows stood up and fired blindly at the roof. Straightaway, debris rained downwards and all hell broke loose and everyone went amok. It was an outrageous scene of pandemonium! Panic punctured the air and hysterical patrons zoomed for safety. Blood splattered everywhere. “I am scared,” I whimpered softly. “Don't worry. I am here with you,” Dad replied affirmatively.

In a bid to escape, we stealthily clambered to the exit, hoping to avoid detection. A dark silhouette loomed over us. We looked up and spied the most evil-looking man ever. His menacing eyes were glowering at us. Our hearts almost stopped beating for a split second. In a gruff voice, he pulled me by my collar and snarled, “Where do you think you are going ?” Feeling rickety, our legs grew weak like almond jelly. Anxiety coursed through my veins as my mind raced at a breakneck speed for an answer. However, before I could even reply, my dad spoke, “Let my son go!” This infuriated the terrorist and the atmosphere intensified with doom.

Bang! The rifle fired and the bullet screamed as it spiralled and pierced through my father's leg. Crimson blood immediately oozed out of the gaping wound. My dad tumbled to the wet, bloodied floor. “Dad! Dad!” I yelled as this terrible scene unfolded before my eyes. It was too horrible for me to bear. Tears coursed freely down my cheeks as grief was eating me inside. I could not help but bawled loudly. “Shut up or a bullet will finish your dad off!” the terrorist warned. I obediently stopped and sniffled my sobs, hardly daring to make any noise.

Out of the blue, tear gas exploded in the theatre and acted like white walls everywhere. Armed commandoes stormed into the cinema. In a heartbeat, the snipers moved in with swift fluid movements and finished off the three evil men with trained precision. “Someone, please help my dad. Please!” I pleaded pitifully for help. The paramedics swiftly rushed to offer paramedical assistance to my injured dad. Within minutes, he was whisked off to the hospital. The ordeal was finally over. It has been a terrible experience for me. Even now, I have been haunted by nightmares. My father has since recovered but now walks with a limp. However, I will always remember how he sacrificed so that I could live.