The Man who Lost His Voice

Rigid. Stone Cold. Expressionless. Just a few adjectives people have used to describe that robust specimen of a man. He had lost all forms of emotions. His failed marriage took his wife, his children and his heart away. He was numb. Nullified. He could barely feel anything anymore of that horrible ordeal where his family was torn apart and ripped out of his life. He had lost everything that mattered to him. Greed? Lust? Alcoholism? Drugs? No. It was simply his recklessness and foolishness. He shot his mouth like a cock-eyed hunter with his pistol. His lips had no restraints, his words carried a thousand knives, piercing through the hearts of anyone who were unfortunate enough to hear them. Language was his flair, yet he used it as a weapon. Every argument he had turned into warfare, with his words fully loaded and ready to hurt. Little did he know, those words would come back to bite him. His actions left his wife with no choice, but to leave. His children are simply too young to have to go through his verbal torment, and left with the better parent. All he had remaining was a calendar with a huge X marked on 23rd April, his foul tongue and horrendous temper.At least there was something to keep him warm during the winter. Days and nights gone by, his words became lesser, conversations shorter and humanly interactions lesser. Under the facade of his sturdy physique, lies a man with a broken heart, a man with saddened emotions, a man who lost everything. His muscles couldn’t hide his immense sorrow, misery and regret. Had he not jumped the gun and let his words flow before they passed his mind, he would have a wife in his arms, children in his life. 

His mind was set. If he were to lose everything, it’s only right the world would lose him. Conflicted, yet heart-broken, he brought the knife upon his broad chest. In one swift motion, the sharp object pierced through his skin, penetrated his muscles to arrive at his most precious organ, one that many believed to be missing; his heart. Blood trickled down his chest as quickly as his tears. Occasional grunts filled the air, as the pain coursed through his veins.  Like a fallen angel, his once stiff body stiffened further and fell lifeless onto his apartment floor. His hand clenched into a fist, crumpling the photo that was enveloped within his thick fingers. Not once throughout this ordeal did he utter a word. Regret and guilt consumed him, forcing him into the afterlife. His eyelids fluttered as he breathed his last. Darkness gradually filled his sight as air escaped his lungs. ‘Bye’ he mouthed. 

‘Thud! Thud! Thud!’ 

He felt his chest hurt as though a knife had cut it open. His eyes gradually opened, to a sight he had fondly remembered. ‘Dad wake up! It’s Sunday!’ his son exclaimed. He sat up, with his hand grasping his chest, where he vividly recalled the knife being. ‘Honey, were you having nightmares?’ his wife questioned. Confused, he stole a quick glance at his phone and he couldn’t believe his eyes, much less his luck, as the date flashed: 23rd April. 

Fate

Fated to have cross paths with you,

To have became close friends,

Never thought once of becoming more. But

Have you ever wondered what my heart feels? Or do

You merely see me as another friend?

In my tiny little world, you were

My everything. Now how I wish that was my 

Arms around your waist, ageing towards eternity.

The one that got away

Tears welled up in my eyes as she uttered those words. Her sentences were on constant repeat for nights in my mind, as though she had recorded them in a spoiled CD player stuck on loop. "Can we stop....talking? Or even texting?" These very words were stuck in my head for what felt like an eternity. Funny thing is, the girl in question was never mine......

Rebellious, annoying, naughty, bawdy and delinquent were the usual words associated with me back then. Much to everyone's surprise, including my own, I was nominated and elected into the Student Council board. But that was just the beginning of Fate's little prank. Amongst the countless mundane and plain-looking was one fine-looking maiden. She was the rose among the thorns if I dare say. She was a jewel hanging on an Ethiop's ear. If TV dramas were real, she'd have the spotlight on her. That's how much she stood out. 

"Please let me be in the same section as her!!" I prayed under my breath as our sections were being announced. "Ignitus! Section urm 3!" Nice. Fate must have really been on my side for putting us together. Or so I thought.

A few months down the road, I got to know her a lot better and we got a lot closer. From what started off as awkward section mates, it gradually grew into an impeccable partnership of Student Councillors. Every time we had duty together, it felt like our little date. Our humdrum duties were always lit up by her sweet smile. Paired with her endearing physique and enchanting voice, she simply took my breath and heart away each time our eyes interlocked or my ears heard the melody that was her voice. Was this what it felt like to be in love? Was I in love? More importantly, did she feel the same way? So many questions unanswered back then, but being impetuous teens we did not give a care about them. 

Piecemeal, the weeks turned into months and into years. In a blink of an eye, we were both graduating. It was time to say goodbye. The images remained vivid in my memory as though it had happened yesterday. It was the night of the prom. Everyone was busy taking photos but once again she stood out just like day 1. 440 students but she was the one again. "Hey, could I get a picture with you?" "Sure!" she answered. If only she had turned it down. Then maybe, just maybe, the pain would not have lingered so long. That very night, I had received the worst text to date. No, it was not on the passing of a relative. It was not about my failed DSA applications. It was her. It wasn't an ordinary message either. It was a voice message. 

*Beep*

"Hi, it's me. I have something to get off my chest. I think we should draw the line. Rumours have been circulating and to be frank, I'm not the most pleased. Can we stop... talking? Or even texting?" 

*Beep*

My heart broke into a million pieces. Shattered and defeated, I laid in bed as my eyes got watery. If only I had the courage to tell her my utmost heartfelt feelings. Then perhaps I would not have to weep. My eyes became broken taps, unable to stop the endless streams that are my tears. I liked her. I adored her. I admired her. I loved her. So much so that I dare not blemish her angelic attributes with my peasant-like touch. But i simple loved her too much, hence I agreed. I had to do whatever I can to ensure her happiness, even at the expense of my own. Dumb and naive, yes I was. Her little nose,  her charming eyes, her freckled cheeks, her engaging voice and her lustrous blonde hair. They are all now a figment of my imagination and a part of my memory that I hold dear to heart. 

Fast forward 10 years. I'm working as a teacher now while she is probably steamrolling her competitors as the top dog in the accounting world. Looking back, if only I had mustered enough courage to open up to her, let her into my heart. Then I would not have to say, she was the one that got away. 

The boy who conquered the world

Rain fell as the night did. Stars illuminated the otherwise dark skies as Luke stared blankly into the horizon. The gentle night wind caressed his rosy cheeks, whilst running through his bright blonde hair as would a caring mother's fingers. It wasn't going to be long before the sun would rise, and Luke had to enter examination hall. He couldn't sleep. Pressure. Anxiety. Fear. But simple confidence eluded him. His tiny heart weighed a thousand tonnes that night, as did his singly folded eye lids, which he slowly slammed to a shut. 

Cuckoo the roosters clucked. Woof the dogs howled. Little Luke awakened gradually as the sun's rays gave a warm hug to everything in sight. Today, Luke's vivacious nature gave way to his distressed emotions. Nervously, he put on his white school top and dull black shorts, before lugging his school bag to the door. "Bye! I'm going to school!" Luke exclaimed. Droplets of sweat agglomerated on his little forehead as his steps quickened. Not long after, he had arrived. Panting, he scurried to locate his seat. "Lance...Larry...Leo...Leon...Leonard...Lucas...Luke!" he murmured under his breath as his eyes scanned the name list. A13 was the seat number assigned to his name; Luke Doncaster. 

"Start!" Instinctively, Luke picked up his weapon and attacked. Frowns donned his face with the occasional chuckle as he felt the relieve of completing a question. Algebra down, Graphing down, then came his most dreaded nemesis; Calculus. He jabbed at the calculator, typing out line after line of equations, with none of them even making the least of sense in little Luke's mind. Eventually, an answer emerged. Despite being in an air conditioned hall, Luke was still drenched. However, he was drenched but not defeated. He had answered every single question to his best effort and he knew, he could not have done it any better. What's more, he had 5 minutes to spare. 

"Stop writing!" echoed through out the hall. This was met by a ton of sighs, of which some carried disappointment, some carried relief. Luke's was definitely the latter. Luke handed over his answer sheet, grinning from ear to ear. He was relieved. He was happy.  But most importantly, he was free. It was his final examination of his middle school life. He had did it. Never once did Luke ever imagine he would conquer the mathematics paper, but he did it. It may not be much, but to Luke, he had conquered the world.