I was sitting comfortably on concrete, high above the lush green fields and glistening ponds. I started gushing to someone how beautiful Malaysia was, but something caught my eye and I squinted to see that a man was shot down. His body went limp and fell into the pond. Blood spilled out and contaminated the beautiful scenery. I looked around on the fields and realised that the army was practicing war with real guns. With a horrified look on my face, I turned to the person I was talking to and said "we have to get outta here!"
My brother responded with a grim nod. We started running as fast as we could. Down below were army men who saw us running away. They decided to come after us.
They soon caught up with me, but I raised my hands and yelled, "I'm not in the army! I'm an innocent bystander!" I didn't know how convincing that would be because I could pass off as a soldier with what I was wearing – baggy green pants and a fitted black t-shirt; my hair was tied up in a single French braid. Whether the soldiers believed me or not didn't seem to matter as they ignored me and ran past me as if I was too easy a target. I realised they were still chasing after my brother who was built enough to join secret services.
"NO!" I yelled out at the top of my lungs. I started running faster than ever but I was still too slow. I heard the sound of a shotgun and heard the thump of a body falling on the ground. I knew what had happened before I could see it because the soldiers had surrounded my brother, blocking my view.
When I caught up with them, I pushed past the large living statues and threw myself on top of my brother. I yelled, "don't shoot! Please..." I started crying. The soldiers left. I checked to see where my brother received the bullet. It was his feet. They were virtually gone.
His left foot was a stub; his right, hinging on flesh and bone, was half detached. Even though I was the one who was crying, I knew I had only just begun to understand how heartbroken my brother must have been.
I yelled out for help. 4 men were kind enough to help carry my brother to a nearby building. I tried calling the hospital but for some reason, they only spoke in Malay and hung up on me when I requested for English. I was furious that no one would help my brother.
I took out my anger on a young man standing in line for the telephone, but he was an understanding fellow and decided to help out. He called a doctor who specialised in reattaching body parts and reported to me that the doctor was on his way but it might take some time. I was still furious, but mostly because I was helpless. I had no choice but to wait; no choice but to see my brother suffer.
I approached my brother and asked him how he was feeling. He didn't answer, but his eyes revealed that he had lost all hope for happiness. I noticed that they were yellow and wondered why that was. I looked down and saw that all the tears I had shed were yellow as well.
That man wants this delicious morsel of food. It's mine!
Muahahah slaying the last chocolate-coated marshmallow.
Aww, no more?
