Continuous Writing - A close encounter with an insane woman

While you were waiting at the school gate for your mother to pick you up after remediation class, a lady walked up to you.

One by one, my classmates left. By 4 p.m., I was standing at the school gate, all by myself, waiting for my mother to pick me up. I had expected to see her as soon as I reached the school gate for my remediation class ended ten minutes late today.

“What’s taking her so long? Could she have forgotten about me?” I muttered to myself, pacing up and down anxiously outside my school.

Minutes and seconds ticked by. My anxiety escalated to a point which was close to panic. “If I do not see her in five minutes, I will not wait for her anymore,” I decided.

Just then, from a distance, my constricted heart loosened in relief when I saw a familiar figure approaching me. My mother had finally appeared! As she sauntered closer, uneasiness set in. Why was she not rushing when she was so late? This was not typical of her at all.

I could see quite clearly from about ten metres away her new hairdo. I gathered quickly in my mind what could have caused her to keep me waiting for so long. I waved wildly in the air. She waved back.

“Hey! Wait a minute! That’s not my mother!” I told myself. Now that she was nearer, I realized that her resemblance to my mother only stopped at her medium-sized frame and her rotund body shape. This lady was much younger. I retracted my waving hand. By then, she was only less than two metres away from me, near enough to see how flustered I was from embarrassment. Feeling sheepish, I smiled a silly smile and looked away from her to mask my awkwardness.

“Dear, so sorry to have kept you waiting,” the lady apologized.

I looked at her, completely baffled. What the lady did next was even more unexpected. She took a step forward and held my hand. I gasped and almost coughed my heart out but was too shocked to pull my hand from her grasp.
“Don’t be angry, Karen. I am sorry that I have made you wait,” she apologised, bent forward and looked directly into my eyes. I reeled back but could not break away from her vice-like grip. Her face was so close to mine that I could count the number of sweat pores. And, the stench emitting from her breath was so foul that I could almost faint.  

“But I don’t know who you are. I waved to you just now because I thought you were my mother,” I mustered my courage to explain politely, fighting against my will not to cup my free hand over my nose.

Much to my horror, the lady flew into hysteria. She pulled me towards her and started sobbing. I struggled to release myself from her embrace but it only got tighter.

“Don’t go, Karen. Please don’t leave me again. I promised I won’t be late again,” she pleaded in between sobs.

“I am not Karen! I don’t know you!” I tried to push her away in vain.

Just then, like music to my ears, a man’s hoarse voice thundered, ”Let her go!”

The voice belonged to Mr Ali, our school security guard. He marched forward and separated me from the lady’s grip. Like a prisoner set free, I took refuge behind my saviour. But at this moment, the lady turned violent and started hurling a flurry of expletives at us.

I was scared out of my soul. Never in my life had I seen anyone who had lost all the sanity. Mr Ali caught hold of her arms for fear that she might hurt me. He radioed for help. Soon, his colleague, Mr Samy, came running to the gate to assist him. In their haste to drag the lady into the school, they left me behind. I was all alone again but I did not mind at all.

My mother showed up eventually. I was so eager to tell her all about my encounter with the insane lady that I forgot to blame her for being late.

Continuous Writing (Picture) - Begging in a School Canteen

As a canteen vendor, I saw with my own eyes, day in and day out, countless number of children of school-going age. Children, like fish sold in the market, come in all shapes and sizes. Most are innocent and cheerful, some others more mature and a small fraction of them surprise us with the way they behave and act.

Dishes cooked, rice apportioned into plates, I was all prepared to get busy once the bell rang for recess.

The canteen came into life as the ever energetic children buzzed in like a swarm of bees. Squeals of laughter, lively chatters filled the air. A line formed in front of my stall and I served my little customers promptly.

The queue shortened. Most of the children were at the tables, tucking into their food. It was then when a scrawny boy, out of nowhere, showed up in the canteen. Unkempt and filthy, a revolting odour emanated from his body wafted intrusively through the air. Our canteen, humble in size, was instantly filled with an overbearing stench.

Many children noticed this outsider’s presence. Apparently not a pupil from this school, he was cast with looks of hostility. I observed with interest from my stall, anticipating what this boy would do and how the children would respond.

The boy shuffled listlessly to the eating area. Other than in clothing that was over-mended and dirtied beyond imagination, he looked no different from all the other children. Aged 11, my guess, his blood-shot eyes scanned around the canteen. Like a hungry lion in search of its prey, he quietly decided on his target. Target identified, he made hesitant steps towards Mandy, a Primary 3 girl who patronised my stall frequently.

I watched, more curiously and intently, for the incident to unfold itself.

“Errr, excuse me. Do you think you could lend me a dollar or two? I am starving,” he spoke like a gentleman, which surprised me greatly.

Mandy was however caught not by surprise but shock. She recoiled and was lost for words the next few seconds. Two pupils at the next table reacted strongly. They threw him rude stares, pointing fingers and gesturing to Mandy against helping the beggar boy. Others frowned with disgust.

Oblivious to all the disapproving remarks, he spoke again, confirming my impression of him as a well-mannered boy, “Erm… excuse me. I’m sorry if I have scared you. I am wondering if you can spare me some money to buy some food. I’m really hungry.”

“No, Mandy! You don’t have to give him,” her classmates said, trying to influence her decision.

Having regained her composure, Mandy reached her hand into her pocket for her purse. From the purse, she pulled out a crisp piece of five-dollar note and passed it to the boy nonchalantly.

“You may keep this but you should not go about begging for money. It steals away your dignity,” said Mandy matter-of-factly like a wise sage.

“Thank you very much. I will remember your kindness and teaching,” the boy received the note politely with two hands. With that, he left the school leaving everyone, including me, completely nonplussed.
This episode which took less than ten minutes taught me much. I learnt from Mandy the unconditional willingness to help and her wisdom. It was no surprise she was awarded the Star Pupil at the end of the year. What came as a real surprise was that the beggar boy was actually the Principal’s son in disguise to test if Mandy fulfilled one of the selection criteria of a Star Pupil.

Continuous Writing (Picture) - Begging in a School Canteen

“Can you give me some money?” begged a boy, dressed in some patched filthy looking t-shirt and shorts. His beady eyes could hardly be seen as he tried to squeeze a smile on his dirt-stained face.

Jane, one of the eight prefects, who was given permission to have an earlier recess, had to carry out her duties once the rest of the pupils were dismissed from their respective classes. She was enjoying her plate of chicken rice when the boy approached her. She almost had a choke from her meal as she did not expect to be approached.

Jane had no idea who the boy was and looking at him, she could only conclude that he must have been starved for a day or two. He had a foul stench which could make one vomit. Jane decided to get the poor boy a bowl of noodles.

The stallholder selling noodles saw the poor boy and she gave Jane the bowl of noodles without charging her. Grateful to the benevolent vendor, Jane took the hot bowl to the boy. He looked at Jane, tears at the corner of his eyes, gobbled up the noodles and slurped down the hot soup within seconds.

Jane offered a piece of tissue paper to the boy while the other prefects looked at both of them in awe. Jane paid no attention to the rest of them.They were whispering among themselves and were curious who the boy was.

Knowing that she was not in position to make decision, Jane took the boy the General Office and informed her form teacher, Ms Tan. Ms Tan took over the case and found out more about the boy’s background.

The boy was one of the school attendant’s son. He was not feeling well that morning and the school attendant had no alternatives but to bring him to the school. He had fever and was weak as he had no solid food for the past two days. His mother had forgotten to give him money as she was busy with her work.

The school attendant, Mdm Jasmine Quek, was called to the General Office and she was apologetic after learning what her son had done. Ms Tan reassured her that it was no trouble but the most important thing was that her son’s health must be taken care of first. Ms Tan gave her a fifty-dollar note to take her child to the clinic.

Speechless, Mdm Quek took the money and after thanking Ms Tan repeatedly, she took her son to the clinic.

Jane stood outside the General Office and she witnessed the episode. Touched by Ms Tan’s gestures, she vowed to exhibit the school’s value on affection more by being the role model and practising it like what Ms Tan had just done.  

Courtesy of Mrs Mak

Continuous Writing - While you were waiting at the school gate...

While you were waiting at the school gate for your mother to pick you up after remediation class, a lady walked up to you.

Finally the clock on the wall struck half past three and the dragging of the chairs and the exchange of greeting between the pupils and teacher were heard. After that, the pupils ran down to stairs as if they had been waiting for the remedial lesson to end.

I walked briskly towards the school gate, eager to see my mother waiting for me. I looked out of the gate but I saw no sign of her. It was unusual of her to be late. I sat on the bench and read my story book. Then I saw a figure approaching me, I quickly kept my book and was ready to hold the hand. When I looked up, I was so embarrassed and shocked!  

Ending 1

The hand belonged to Ms Chua, my principal! At that moment, I could feel the blood gushing to my cheeks and the rest of my face. I was sure my face had turned as red as the tomatoes. My hands turned cold. Panicked, I apologised feverishly. I could imagine how amused Ms Chua felt. I felt the relief when I saw the smile on her face telling me she did not mind at all.

As if searching for the appropriate words, Ms Chua held my hand and gestured me to sit down. I could never forget the serious expression on her face. Slowly and calmly, she broke the news to me – My mother was involved in an accident while on her way to pick me up. She was taken to Tan Tock Seng hospital and my father was on his way to the hospital.

Flabbergasted, I was at a loss of words. My mind went blank. The spoken words that followed were mute to me. My mind was spinning. Before I knew it, tears had wet my entire face. Ms Chua offered to take me to the hospital.

When I arrived at the hospital, my mother had been in the operating theatre for hours. I saw my father pacing up and down the aisle, I could feel his anxiety and the fear of losing my mother. Fighting back my tears, I walked up to my father and hugged him hard. I reassured him that my mother would pull through and we would be a happy family again.

Speechless, tears just rolled down my father’s cheek. I knew at that instant, the situation might be worse than I had imagined. I looked at Ms Chua, hoping to get some assurance from her that my mother would be fine. I guessed at that moment all she could do was to lend me a shoulder to cry on.

Finally, the surgeons were out from the operating theatre, exhausted. They broke the news that my mother was out of danger but she would need to be under observation and be put in the Intensive Care unit (ICU) till her conditions stabilised. Upon hearing that, the fear and anxiety were immediately lifted from my father and me.

We turned to Ms Chua and thanked her for being there with my family. She left shortly after and my dad and I went to the ICU to look at our feeble woman of the house. I began to realise how precious and fragile life can be and also, in times of crisis, the support we get from our family and friends is so valuable and important.

Ending 2
The hand belonged to a stranger! Her pink blouse and white skirt showed her fair skin while her sandals added a few inches to her slim frame. Her glasses, perched at the end of her nose, enhanced her delicate features.

She smiled and asked me if I knew of anyone by the name of Joshua Tan. At that instance, I had no idea till she gave me more descriptions. Joshua was also in Primary 5 and he was a new foreign pupil. That rang a bell as I remembered Mrs Mak mention we had a new pupil joining Pr 5-9.

I told the lady to follow me to the staff room where she could make her enquiries. After that, I left to wait for my mother. While walking towards the gate, I saw my mother with a boy. He was obviously feeling lost and perspiration had drenched his shirt. I walked up to them and discovered that the boy had missed his school bus and lost his way home.

I read the name off his nametag – Joshua Tan! Was he the boy? I began to ask him a string of questions which he did not seem to understand. Slowly, he began to utter a word in mandarin “bu dong” which means he did not understand.

Speaking in mandarin, I asked him if he was from Primary 5-9. He responded and I took him to the office to meet his mother. When his mother saw him, she iwas so glad that he was safe and sound that she immediately gave him a hug. His mother thanked me and Aunt Celia, the office liaison officer for helping to look for her son.

Walking towards the gate, my mother was waiting patiently for me. I was prepared for her to give me a lecture for taking such a long time to send the boy to the office. On the contrary, she patted me on my shoulder and smiled. I knew she was proud of me!

Joshua’s mother thanked my mother for bringing her lost son back. As my mother was not very good with words, she just smiled at them before we walked home. 

During assembly the following day, my principal mentioned my name to the school and commended the help I had rendered and that she was proud of me. I was flabbergasted as I thought it was only our duty to help our fellow friends. Well, that acknowledgement had made me the star for the day. Now, I believe it pays to be kind.

Courtesy of Mrs Mak

Continuous Writing - Runaway Maid

One afternoon, you returned from tuition class and found your front door wide open. There was no one at home. However, the television was on.

One fine day, my mother, a homemaker for more than ten years, received a phone call from her previous employer. He wanted to offer her a job. We gave her all our support to pursue her career. With that decision made, the need for a maid thus arose naturally.

Eka arrived, meek and obedient. She performed her tasks fairly well. She washed, cooked, ironed and kept the house clean enough. We were quite pleased with this new member living under the same roof.

With Eka's help at home, my mother could focus on her job without much worries.

Last Friday, I returned from tuition class and found the front door wide open.

"Eka! I'm home!"I called out for her. There was no response. 

I walked into the house and looked for her. The television was switched on to the RTM channel. She was not in the kitchen. Neither was she in her room. I searched the toilets and the bedrooms. 

There was no food on the dining table. The basketful of laundry was untouched and worst, she was nowhere in sight. More angry than puzzled, I flung my bag on the couch. We had instructed her many times not to switch on the television.

My rumbling stomach protested in hunger. I went to the kitchen to prepare cup noodles and hastily loaded the washing machine with the soiled laundry.

"Where could she be? She is not supposed to go out at this hour!" I complained to myself.

With the cup noodles in my hand, I walked back to the living room. I passed by her room and sensed something fishy. I pushed the door open and stuck my head in to take a peek.

To my least expected, the room was bare except for the neatly rolled up mattress. Her two duffel bags were gone. I went to the common toilet. My heart sank. I did not see her towel and her toiletries.

She had run away. Our maid had run away!

Why? Why did she run away? Was it planned or done onimpulse?

I called my mother to tell her my discovery. My voice shook when I spoke to my mother. I felt both angry and betrayed. Judging from the door and television, she must have left hastily.

I completely forgot my hunger. We had been treating her well and she did not show any displeasure working for us. Why did she have to pack up and leave without a word?

We notified the maid agency. They advised us to wait. They seemed nonchalant about the matter for they had come across runaway maids too many times. Confidently, the agent told us that she would show up either at the agency or the embassy.

True enough, when we next heard about Eka from the maid agency, she had been repatriated to Indonesia by the embassy. It was not known why she chose to leave.

It is four months after she packed up and disappeared from our house. We struggled a bit without her but life moves on. My mother is doing well in her job. I still go to school every day.

There is no more Eka to prepare the meals and to get the housework done. Nonetheless, life goes on, with or without her.

Continuous Writing - Disappointment to parents

“You should not have done such a thing. You have disappointed both of us very much,” said my father. I looked at my parents and lowered my head. I was indeed apologetic for my action. I had never expected things to turn out this way.

Last Wednesday, I was at home helping my mother to do some household chores. I folded the clothes and kept them in the right drawers neatly. I enjoyed helping out as it made my mum happy. Looking after my two-year-old toddler brother was tiring for her. All this while, my mum had not been in her pink of health and my younger brother was a bit too active for her to handle. I tried to do what I could to relieve her from her chores.

“Ah Di, keep your hands off the cup,” my mum said to my brother. My brother toddled away and my mother quickly chased after him for fear that he might fall. I rose to my feet to place the cup back to the dining table.

“Ring… “ The phone rang. I answered the call.

I froze in fear when I recognized the voice of the caller. Chills ran down my spine. I did not expect her to call. I thought she would never call. I was wrong.

“Who’s that, Sam?” my mother asked across the living room.

“It’s for you, Mum,” I answered, handing her the receiver in cold and clammy hands.

I dared not look into my mum’s eyes. I knew it was too late to do any redemption. My doomsday arrived, much earlier than I expected.

My mum did not talk much over the phone. She was listening to the caller and nodding her head most of the time. Her brows furrowed and her cheeks turned ruddy. It was a bad sign for me.

“Thank you so much for calling me. Good bye,” Mum hung up the phone and slumped heavily on the chair. I guessed her heart also plunged hard together with the slump. Her eyes stared blankly in the air. After a while, she stood up and walked to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

In the evening, I heard my parents’ muffled conversation coming from their bedroom, occasionally punctuated with heavy sighs. My heart sank. “I shouldn’t have done it,” I reproached myself. I was preparing for the worst when the bedroom door opened.

My father appeared from the door, looking very grim. He sat down and gestured me to go over. My heart raced and my hands trembled. My feet moved against my will towards my dad, the figure of authority in the family.

“You should not have done such a thing. You have disappointed both of us very much,” said my father. “Your form teacher called this afternoon. You have been keeping us in the dark,” he continued, his voice raised this time.

“How many times have you played truant? Why did you do that?” his eyes shot at me, demanding for an answer.

I looked at my parents and lowered my head. I was indeed apologetic for my action. I was such a letdown. My heart was filled with remorse. How silly of me to think that I could get away! I had thought that by escaping, my overdue assignments would miraculously be forgotten by my teacher. I had never expected things to turn out this way. Hurting my parents was the last thing on my mind.

I kept quiet. My father flew into a rage. His hand swept furiously and rained whippings on me. I knelt on the floor and asked for his forgiveness. “I know I am wrong. I will not do it again. I will hand in all the work by next week,” I pleaded with my father.

My mum’s tears could not stop flowing. I could feel her pain. She must be so disappointed that her filial son was a truant. How could she ever accept that? My dad dropped the cane. He went into his room without saying a word.

I wiped away my tears. “This will be last time I do this to my parents,” I swore.

Continuous Writing (Picture)- Sports Day

Tom could hear his heart pounding fast in his chest. He drew in a deep breath to calm down. He had been waiting for this day to arrive - the day which he could challenge top athletes from other schools, the day which he could challenge himself, his greatest rival.

The stadium was pulsating with excitement. The spectators cheered and clapped wildly when the names of their school athletes were announced. "Lane 4, Tom Lim from Stanfeld Primary School," the announcer's voice blasted through the speakers. Tom's supporters went into a frenzy of excitement. Many stood up and waved vigorously at him. Some whistled and yelled at the top of their lungs.

At the start line, Tom got into position, his heart hammering harder. He must not let his school down. He must not let himself down after many months of training. Eyes fixed at the finish line a hundred metres away, he waited in anticipation for the starter's cue. The cheers grew louder, but he did not hear them. He was in full concentration. A bead of perspiration dripped from his forehead to the ground.

"Bang!" went the starter's gun. All the athletes took off like jet fighters. Tom's strides were long and powerful. All the athletes were running neck and neck. Tom's strength and speed built up with each stride and was taking the lead at the 50m mark. The athletes second and third in position were trailing very close behind. Tom gritted his teeth. He pushed himself harder, swinging his arms more forcefully to propel his body forward. "Just a few more strides to go," he urged himself on in his mind.

The spectators cheered and their excitement reached the peak when they saw the athlete fourth in position gaining on speed, threatening to overtake the runners ahead of him. Just as he was a hairline away, he suddenly lost his balance and tumbled forward. He landed on the runner in front of him who in turn fell on the one ahead like dominoes.

Tom heard a few thuds in quick succession behind him. The roaring of the spectators turned into gasps of shock and disbelief. Tom, however, did not look back. He sprinted his way to victory with two hands raised in the air.

Behind him came the rest one after another. The three who fell somehow managed to pick themselves and hobbled past the finish line. And now, the spectators roared to the true spirit of sportsmanship and vibrated the whole stadium. Tom applauded for them and rendered help.

It was a race of double celebration with a new national record and true sportsmanship.

Continuous Writing - My best friend's Phonecall

You were at home preparing for the coming examination. The phone rang. It was your best friend.

The examination was round the corner. I was at my desk, buried in a pile of notes. The clock chimed five times. I had to cover two more topics before my younger sisters came home. It would not be possible to study once they reached home. I looked out of the window to rest my eyes.

“Ring… Ring…” the phone rang. I stood up to answer the phone, prancing on the opportunity to take a longer breather.

“Hello, Linda. Do you want to come over for tea? I just baked brownies and it was a great success!” invited May, my best friend. She sounded exhilarated.

“I don’t think so, May. I still have tons to go through. Where on earth did you find time to bake?” I declined although I could hear my stomach growling in hunger.

“Oh! I am done with my revision. Come on, Linda. It won’t take long,” coaxed May.

May knew me too well. It was not me to reject good food. Furthermore, it was brownies, one of my favourites. The thought of a plate of hot brownies topped with ice cream made me salivate. I gulped down a mouthful of saliva.

“Err… don’t tempt me, Linda. You know I have a sweet tooth,” I answered, fighting hard to curb the temptation.

“Well, I’ll leave it to you. Give me a call should you change your mind,” May said understandingly. We ended the conversation and I returned to my revision. I was grateful that May did not persist. I would have succumbed to her invitation if she had coaxed further.

I had difficulty concentrating after the phone call. I could not lift my mind off the brownies. The image of them swirled in my mind, drifting me mind further and further away from my notes.

Time was ticking furiously away. I clutched my head to bring myself back. It was futile.

The doorbell rang.

I walked to the door.

“Surprise!!! It’s me!” I could not believe my eyes.

It was May, holding a brownie in front of me.

“Brownies for you, Ma’am?” May said teasingly, her eyes glinting in mischief. She handed the brownie to me. Of course, I was all ready to savour it .

“Thanks May. You really know me too well. I have been thinking of the brownies after talking to you,” I said in between nibbling on the mouth-watering brownie.

“Ha ha, I knew it. That’s why I am here. Well, I have to go now. Study hard!”

May left. I slurped the last bit of brownie in satisfaction. The brownie really did wonders. I was back to the notes in full concentration!