Thursday, April 25, 2013

PSLE: A loud sound at the cinema

It was my father's birthday - a day I will never forget.

It was our family tradition to catch a movie on birthdays. Thus,
my father brought me and my little brother, Ethan, to the movie.

"Daddy, is the show going to start?" Ethan asked the umpteen time as exuberance bubbled within him. Father gave a sigh, saying,  "Yes, yes. Soon,"   The smell of hot buttery popcorn drifted in the air as we munched away while waiting. 

Bang! Our wait was interrupted by a loud blast. A trio of three stout men entered with machine guns and grenades in their hands. 

Dad's face immediately blanched in horror. "Terrorists!" he gasped and huddled us close to him. Crowds of people started rushing for the exits as all hell broke loose and panic punctured the air. One of the terrorists, the tallest of the three, swept bullets at the panicked crowd which fell one by one like dead flies. Luckily, we stayed our ground and dared not move.

"Anyone still wants to move?" a voice hissed.  No one spoke a word. The terrorists told us their intention. As long as the government would not release their comrades from the prison, they would kill us one by one. 

They started the negotiation but the authorities were taking too long to give in to their demands. We feared the worst. "Dad, I am scared!" I whispered into his ears. He stroked my soft hair, trying to
reassure me, but neither of us knew that things were about to turn for the worse.

Suddenly, the terrorists started to line us up. My dad was the first in line. A dark shadow lurked before us. It was the tall terrorist again. There was an evil smirk on his scarred face. A pistol was pointing at Dad's head.

A cold chill wrenched my heart. I dashed forward to hug the man's leg, pleading for his mercy. Ethan rushed forward and hugged Dad, shouting, "Don't kill my dad.  Don't kill my dad!"


No one came forward to help. The lanky terrorist gave a hard kick and I landed against the wall, writhing in pain. 

Bang! My little brother screamed as a gunshot reverberated through the air. Dad fell to the ground in a pool of blood - dead. Horror and pain besieged me and I fainted.

By the time I had awakened, I found myself in the hospital.  Mum told me that the commandos moved in soon afterwards and killed all the terrorists. 

"Why couldn't they do it earlier?  Why? Why?" I screamed, livid with the commandos' slow actions. Why did my father have to die? That day, my family's tradition of celebrating birthdays at the movies died with his demise.  

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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