Onion on the Wall

I haven't had time to update on the consecutive blows that I faced during the last 3 weeks. Emotional outbursts at work where they don't belong plus the lack of emotion in my personal life where I could use some... hmm... a trying month indeed.

And I had just returned from my school reunion in Perak a few hours ago. There's more to that too.

In this entry, I just want to quickly share an excerpt from a short story that I started during my 3-day corporate video course on Wednesday. This experimental piece combines romance, supernatural and violence.


Onion on the Wall - 1st cut

The clock is unlike any that she has seen before. Resembling a two-dimensioned onion, it hangs flat on the wall at the outer front of the cafe. Its' body had been meticulously crafted from thin sheets of brightly coloured metals; these unfold horizontally like a rainbow. At its' centre, two tiny white arms spread out to 2.30pm.

Rose takes a deep breath and tugs her feet underneath the rough wooden carved table. Despite the drizzle, she chose a spot outside. She sits back on the stool and leans against the big damp tree trunk behind her. Her flip flops lay apart on the wet earthen floor. She flips Murakami's 'At Night' novel in her hands several times before putting it down again.

“Hello.” The cheerful voice belongs to a petite waitress. She hands over a square orange menu. “What do you want to order?” She reads the first line. “Just some Hot lemongrass tea, please.” The girl takes the menu and walks off. 10 minutes later, she returns with a full tray. “Thanks,” she stares at the beverage. The big glass plunger carries enough cloudy lime green liquid to fill up at least five cups. Somehow, it reminds him of the moss that grows at the side of the lake. She pulls the holder up and pour a bit into the small red cup. Her fingers shiver slightly.

She looks up at the clock. It is 2.55pm. She wipes the trickles of water on her brows and nose. It was raining heavily when she left the gallery 15 minutes ago. Funnily, it was her third time down the lane and she had never noticed the tiny cafe before. While her hair, clothes and flip flops are drenching wet from the rain, her cheeks are equally wet from tears. After going back and fro three times, she decides to stop by. The first thing that caught her attention was the onion clock.

As she sips her tea, she wonders where Zack is at that moment. He has asked her not to worry, assured her repeatedly that he has everything under control. She doubts it. She knows that he has not received the payment for his last job yet. Even if he had, it was far from enough. There is nothing else she can do. She had dug deep into all her bank accounts and scrapped the last bits of her savings...

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