Pink Clouds and Purple Tree

Gosh, I arrived early to work today but could hardly open my eyes. I only got like 3 hours of sleep. Yeap, I went out for coffee and then sahur with Mr Designer from 12.30am to 4.30am. Funny thing was that, when I was with him, I felt more and more refreshed. He wondered too:)

Oh, BTW, my parents are in town. Though they are curious about me going out with a friend for Sahur, they didn’t try to dig further. Thank God.

When we ‘buka puasa’ together last Tuesday, Mr Designer gave me a fantastic story idea. This is a real incidence that happened to him when he was a square 17 year-old kid. That was 6 months before he was due to fly to UK to further his studies. It got my inspiration going. So, last night, I asked him to sketch and explain the technicalities of his labourer job at the Pasir Gudang port to me. I had a feeling this piece will be a winner, it will be one of my few masculine stories.

Hence, to jump start my right brain, just now I tried to write the intro to the story as below. I think it helps cure my sleepiness a bit, hehe.

To make matters worse, I've just found out an outstation buka puasa event that I was supposed to attend today is now back on. Initially, it was postponed! Man! I'm not even dressed in Baju Kurung and it's dark outside, definitely the rain will pour soon. Going home to change will not be a wise thing to do. My colleague is going in trousers and blouse, so would I la... too bad.

The Kid - 1st Cut
I see pink clouds in the sky. Milky white river flows in front of me. A big tree with purple trunk and lilac leaves dances to the left and right. Its arms seem to beckon at me, inviting me for a real treat. Red apples grow on its branches while oranges stick out from behind them. Suddenly, a Durian creeps out in the middle of nowhere. My mouth waters as my hand reaches out for the thorny fruit. To my shock, the river suddenly swallows the tree. The image slowly becomes more and more blur. “No!” I yell. “Come back here, goddammit!”

My head starts to spin. I shut my eyes. When I open them minutes later, I find myself sitting cross legs on the cemented floor of our rented house. A glass jar with a used needle in it leans against my knee. An empty packet lies with traces of white powder around it. I hear a soft mumbling. I turn to look. A tall, skinny teenager stands in the door way. He is dressed in a pair of jeans, white t-shirt and black cap. He appears to be carrying a small dark blue knapsack on his back. Crap! The kid is staring at me, amazed.

Lips trembling, he speaks timidly, “Abang, I’m looking for my friend.”
I try to focus.
“My fr…friend… Jaz?” he stutters. “He lives here, right?”
“What do you want?”
“He says he can get a job for me… at the dry dock.”
I look hard at him before bursting into laughter. My head hurts as his girlish voice drowns around me...

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