Desolation

She sat down quietly as the wind chimes rang a peaceful melody. The wind, blew like soft silk brushing against her cheek. Her face, wrinkled and old. Her body, small and weak. Then came her dog. She patted him and a smile appeared on her face. A smile she always gave to her only companion for the past three years.

Her house was small and cramped with many goods laying around the floor. Her wall was covered with pictures of her children, her youths and most prominently, her wedding. It had been three long and lonely years after her husband left her forever due to a heart attack. She could remember how painful she felt during his funeral. It was as if losing her own most valuable jewelery in which she endeared the most.

The wind chimes rang again. She stood up and walked towards the kitchen and began preparing her lunch. A simple and noble dish of sliced carrots and cabbage stir-fried. She sat alone on her table, waiting for a company that she knew will never come to her. She began munching her food little by little. Picking up the bits and pieces of food that dropped on her table. She did not realise, that she had been trying to stabilise her hands, which were shaking.

As she finished her last bite, she walked towards her house' door and sat down, enjoying the afternoon breeze. Her dog beside her, sitting down, as if accompanying her. She gave a heave of sigh.

And the wind chimes rang again.

The Perfect Day

Today, the sky was blue.
There was no cloud in the sky,
Only birds were flying up high,
Cheerfully, freely, without worries.
The sky was picturesque
Like a painting that tells a thousand stories.
But something was missing, something was amiss
But I couldn’t find that missing piece.

Today, the wind blew freely.
Brushing against my cheek softly.
It rings the wind chimes, creating a sense of peace.
Is this the reality? Or is this a dream?
It feels like I’m in paradise, in a bliss.
Transporting me into another place, another realm.
But again, something was not here, not present.
And I wonder what is the reason of this occurrence?

Today, the sun was shining brightly.
As it rose, the sky was golden yellow.
It shone bravely as if saying a loud hello.
As it set, the sky was a beautiful orange and purple.
It is something simple but yet the view is indescribable.
The day moves, like the changing of seasons.
But why is that something still missing?
Even though the day had come to a close?

Today seemed like a perfect day.
The sun, the sky and the wind.
But I am still finding that missing something.
And alas, I have finally found it.
It is the imperfectness of the world that is missing.
To make today such a perfect day.
Even though there may not be a perfect day in life.
I’m still waiting for that perfect day to arrive.

The War - Chapter 5

My mum sat on the opposite of me. In front of us laid a cup of coffee each, served with a couple of biscuits prepared by aunt Lucy. There was an awkward silence, and an ominous feeling that I was going to discover a grotesque truth. And indeed I was.

So my mum began to speak.

"So how was your life in the village?"
"It was fun. But I missed you so much,"

There was a minute of silence.

"Well dear, seems like my feet is useless now eh?"

I did not dare to reply.

"Honestly speaking, I was tortured"
"What do you mean?"

My mum paused, then continued.

"You see dear, while you were away in the village, I was working, helping the military. I, or rather, we were forced there. Tortured, abused, or anything of some sorts you cay say"

"We were given only two meals per day. There was no lunch. Only breakfast and dinner. Life was horrible, it was dirty and unimaginable"

"Then one day, I was supposed to carry bombs into a plane. The commander was unhappy with my speed so he pushed me. I fell down and the bomb hit my knee."

"Can you imagine? A 30 kilo bomb, landing on my knee?"

"And he even said 'You work too slow! Hurry!' and he kicked me"

"The pain was unbearable and I could not work anymore, so they sent me to the hospital."

"And that was when I know the truth. I could no longer walk anymore"

My mum stopped talking. And I was shocked. My heart filled with despair and anger. Hatred burning inside me. My fists were clenched, and I wanted to kill those commanders. But then my mum continued again.

"But dear, let it go. I have forgotten about everything. All I wanted to do is for the war to stop and for all of us to return home safely again. As long as I can serve the country and..."

I interrupted.

"No mum, you are wrong. How could you say such words when they even tortu.."

My mum put her finger on my lips.

"No more. It's over dear. The war is over, everything is over."

I sat down and kept quiet. My eyes were drenched with tears of hatred and sadness. I sobbed softly and my mum came over by my side to hug me. I continued to cry, somehow it was unstoppable.

Then I realised. My mum was not a victim of the war. She was a victim of a human's pride and selfishness. A victim of a human's wish to take over the world. Yet, she did not relinquish. She never give up and she never points a finger at anyone.

Now I wonder. If my mum is wiser than the commanders. If the commanders have ever thought of who pays the price of war. If they even know how many people suffered from it.

And all these victims can do. Is to wept in silence.

-THE END-

The War - Chapter 4

I hugged my mother. Her flimsy white hair brushing against my right ear. Her face feels cold despite of the summer's heat. Perhaps it was her age, or maybe the breeze. Then, she softly whispered onto my ear.

"Welcome home, dear"

Her voice. I had not heard her voice for five, long years. Hearing her voice welled my eyes with tears. I softly sobbed and I hugged her even tighter. She was tapping my back, signaling to me that I hugged her too hard. I wiped my tears off and began pushing her wheelchair home.

The way home was both a touching and eerie moment. It was touching in a sense that it reminisced me of my town, after I left it for five years. The buildings, the sights and sounds, the people and the sceneries. I thought to myself, reminding myself that I had left this village for five years. And yet not much had changed.

It was however, also, eerie in a sense that much of the buildings were then destroyed. Some of the buildings were even gone, flat on on the ground. One of them was my friend's house, Errick. What's left on the spot were rubble and debris. It was horrifying. It was also eerie in a sense that I could still feel the fear and worries of the people living here during the war. The atmosphere was different. There was an ominous feeling there, as we walked.

And another thing as well. The silence of my mother. She did not speak a word at all on our wat back home. Aunt Lucy told me she was most probably tired. Tired from what? I wondered to myself. With her wheelchair, I was shrouded with fear that she was not the usual her five years ago. I was wondering if something was wrong with her throat, thus her silence.

As we reached home. I was happy. I was happy to see my house, still in one piece, not even damaged by a scratch - except for its colour's change. I thank God for everything. My mother, my house, and my life.

I opened the door of my house and pushed my mother's wheelchair slowly beside out dining table. Aunt Lucy was preparing tea and I offered to help her. But my mother called me up and asked me to sit beside her.

"Talk with me, I have lots of things to tell you" she said.

And that was when I had the biggest shock of my life.

The War - Chapter 3

The bus was filled with noise. But this time, it was filled with the noise of excitement. The noise of happiness and joy. The noise of pride for the country. We were all happy that we were returning back to our village.

Coincidentally I was sitting with the same two boys that I sat with five years ago. Now they were both eleven and ten. They looked more matured and built-up as compared to how they look five years ago. And so I asked them.

"So are you happy to return to our village again?"

"More than happy, we are ecstatic and overjoyed!" they replied with a cheery voice.

I gave them a smile and a nod.

The bus began to move with a jerk. Everyone clapped and cheered. Somehow everyone turned into children again. It reminded me of our first bus trip in my elementary school into a nearby farmstead. Everyone cheered the same way when our bus moved.

During my way back home, I was wondering how the village looked like after five years of farewell. How was my mother? Is she alright? I thought to myself. Five years seemed like an eternity with the war going on. A part of my heart is excited to return home while another part of my heart is reluctant to see the village.

Fear is imminent I thought.

The bus reached the village and stopped in the same spot in which we left the village five years ago. The mothers, looking slightly older, waited happily for the bus to come to a halt and for its passengers to appear from the bus. As the bus' doors opened, everyone rushed out. It was chaotic and touching at the same time.

When they saw their children, the mothers hugged them tightly, as if not wanting to lose their children. Sadly, some children cried when they saw their relatives instead. A sign that their parents were gone. Forever.

I stepped out of the bus and was greeted by aunt Lucy, who was my mother's older sister. My heart beat faster and faster. She's gone too? I thought. Then aunt Lucy grabbed my arm and walked towards one side of the crowd.

There, I saw a figure of a woman on a wheelchair. She was wearing a red dress with a gray sweater. Her hair flimsy and white, dancing in the summer's breeze. Is that mum?

And yes, she is my mother. But no, she is not the victim of the war.

The War - Chapter 2

The war lasted for 5 years. Five agonising and painful years. Even though I was out from the capital city, I could feel the pain and suffering that the people experienced just by listening to the radio or reading the newspaper. The headline of one newspaper once read

"589 killed by a bomb in the capital city"

Five hundred and eighty nine people. Died. Instantly by one bomb. Sometimes I wonder where are the sanity of these bombers? Or even, where are their hearts? Couldn't they just think of the consequence and put their feet into the victims' shoes?

For five years, we were placed in a village faraway from the capital city. It was a small quiet village, filled with farmsteads and gardens. The boys worked in the fields to grow plants and rear the animals while the girls helped in the house chores. Sometimes the girls would work in the field as well, doing light work like watering.

We were all excited to hear the announcement in the radio. "We are free at last". And we knew deeply in our hearts that the war had ended. We cheered and hugged each other. Sang and danced along. We even held a celebration feast. The crops we grew, which was meant for the soldiers, were used in this feast. Turkeys, Chicken and Pig were roasted. Salads and side dishes were made.

Our hearts leaped in joy even further when we heard the news that we were all going back to our village again. Home at last I thought. But happiness was not all of us accepted. We also received the news that part of our village was destroyed by bombs. Some of us even received letters during the war, saying that their parents or relatives were killed by a bomb.

I was lucky enough not to be one of them. I could still vividly remember my mother standing and waving her white handkerchief as our bus left five years ago. Now, I could not imagine the lives of those affected by the bomb. Perhaps they would not be welcomed by anyone once they reached the village.

Perhaps, they would just be welcomed by their memories.

The War - Chapter 1

Everyone was crying. The bus was filled with chaos and uncertainty. I sat quietly beside two 5 years old boys who were crying very loudly. The bus was filled with children, aged between 1 to 12 years old. There were even infants inside the bus, carried by some girls.

Everyone was screaming and shouting. Outside the bus, the mothers of these children cried and sobbed, waving their woven handkerchiefs. Their cheeks were wet, their face desolate. My mother was standing between the other mothers - wearing a red shirt with a black skirt. Unlike the other mothers, she was not crying. She just simply waved her handkerchief. A white one.

Then the bus jolted as the engine started. It moved slowly towards the road while the mothers followed the bus. The screaming in the bus grew louder. Then a woman appeared. She was my neighbor, Mrs Johnson.

"Children please sit still, we don't want you to get injured"

Then two other women appeared from the back, asking the children to sit still. One of them was one of my teachers in school, Mrs Edward. But I didn't recognise the other one.

Disobeying them, I jumped out of my seat and moved towards the back of the bus. I looked over the window and saw my mum standing on the exact spot where she was standing just now. She did not chase the bus. She simply stood still on the same spot, still waving the handkerchief.

That was when I parted with my mother.