Angel

I wrote, and posted this story in this blog two years ago. One of the few times I attempted a short story.

It was inspired by Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol, and in the spirit of the season, I am re-posting it.

I have been cynical and grouchy and bad-tempered this year. So I hope that this little Christmas story, a tale about hope and redemption, will light up all those dark pages I have written. ( Will try to post a new poem soon, when the work in the office has return to sane levels)



photo by Bosela
image from morguefile.com


Angel


1.

He stood on the train platform, waiting for the train to arrive. The large TV monitor above him flashed 10.00 p.m and that the train will reach the station in another two minutes. Two hours to Christmas and in two minutes his sufferings will end. All around him were people talking, laughing, giggling, lugging last minute Christmas shopping, all absorbed in the festive spirit.

He looked down at the shopping mall and the shops around the train station, where he had wandered, like a dazed man, for the last two hours. It was a tough decision to make. But the world was just too unfair to him. Why did his company laid him off while less deserving ones stayed? He was unemployed for nearly a year, not that he did not try to get employment. It was either they had someone for the job, or that he was too old. He watched as his savings dwindled, until it was gone. His wife had to go out to work at a fast food joint to help out, and he felt sorry for his daughter, for he could not afford a proper meal for her each day, let alone the computer she had so wanted.

Two months back, a man in his same situation had jumped onto a rail track, in the path of an approaching train, killing himself. The case was given wide coverage in the media, after the dead man’s plight was made known. Donations from a sympathetic public were made to the man’s family. Large donations. He hoped this will repeat with him. If his death will result in a better life for his family, it was a trade-off he would gladly make.

As he inched himself nearer to the edge of the platform, he felt a gentle tug at his hand. A little girl, maybe not yet ten, smiled at him, holding up a tin can. “Hello sir, donation to the poor?” For a child so young, her voice rang with a clarity he had never heard before, like a choral hymn he had heard once when he was young.

The little girl had jet black hair, pulled back in a neat ponytail and fastened with a floral band. She had on a pure white frock laced with gold trimmings. It was a rare outfit to see on a girl these days, what with their denims, shorts and camo prints. Her clear brown eyes shone with such an intense innocence and compassion he had not seen before. He dug in his pocket for his last five dollar note, folded it, and put it in the can. He squatted down and took a closer look at the girl.

She so reminded him of his daughter, they were about the same age. He noted that his daughter was leagues away from this one, but he loved his daughter all his life. There were almost tears in his eyes, as he pointed at the plain-looking tin can and asked her what charity was that. Salvation Army? Spastic Children?

The little girl smiled and pointed at the TV monitor above him. He looked up and instead of the usual ads for movies and train arrival times, a tableau of a person’s life unfolded before him. He recognized the person as himself. There he was at his wedding, laughing and holding his bride. The happy day when his daughter arrived. And then the scene changed, he was walking towards the edge of the platform, as if a few moments ago, the train screaming into the station. And finally, he saw his wife, gaunt, eyes swollen from tears, calling his name, and his daughter, hands reaching out for her father.

He wanted to say, no, stop this! He stood transfixed, as if a fossil frozen in time, a million thoughts tumbling through his brain. Suddenly, he remembered the girl, and turned his head to look for her. But she was gone; he was standing alone in a deserted train station.

When he looked up at the TV monitor again, it was flashing 10.00 pm and that the train will reach the station in another two minutes. All around him were people talking, laughing, giggling, lugging last minute Christmas shopping, all absorbed in the festive spirit. And then he felt a calm he had not known for a long time, covering him like a warm blanket, coursing all inside him. He knew exactly what he had to do. As the train curved into the station, he ran.


( to be continued...)


© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 )

Angel 2

woodblock print by Tanigami Konan
image from visipix.com



Angel (part 2)


2.

He ran down the stairs of the train station, walked briskly across the hall, through the turnstiles, and out of the station. The night crowd was still thick. There were the families going home, the hungry diners at the delis and McDonalds, the all-night revelers going to the nightspots in the city.

When he found a coin-phone at a shop, he fumbled in his pockets for the last few coins that were his entire fortune. He called home and almost immediately, his wife picked up the phone. She sounded relieved. “Oh, we were so worried about you, are you coming home soon?”
“I love you, honey”, he said. He had wanted to say that from the time he came out of the station. He could not remembered when was the last time he had said those words to her. There was a short pause and he thought he heard her sobbed,
“I love you too,” she said, and added “I bought some food from the KFC. It’s not much, but I thought on the night before Christmas, we will have something better…”
He was trying hard to fight back his tears.
“I will be back soon,” he said. “Tell Ah Girl daddy loves her too.”
“I will. And another thing, a HR person from the logistics company that you apply for a job called this evening. He said they would like to talk to you again, two days after Christmas.”

The night was cool. December nights in the tropics usually are. A breeze was blowing, and he thought he heard carols drifting with the wind. Overhead, the sky was a canvas of navy blue, strips of cirrus clouds floating like wisps of candy floss. The street lights shone like welcome beacons, casting warm, golden glows on the crowds hurrying under them. From where he was, it would be another few minutes to reach his home, if he walk briskly. Trying to fight back his tears, he told his wife that he would be back home soon.

He hurried along the corridor of his apartment block, hoping to reach home as soon as possible. His daughter was already at the gate, waiting for him. He squatted down and hugged her, something he had not done for some time. His wife, beaming, walked across the tiny hall to greet him. Behind her, on the dining table, was a red and white paper box. No turkey, no ham, and the fried chicken were getting cold, but he knew that it will be the most delicious chicken he will eat in his life.

As he prepared to walk into his house, he turned his head to take a brief look at the sky. A tiny point of light sparkled, and seemed to wink at him. He smiled, his tears of joy now flowing freely. He knew somewhere up there, there was a little girl who had watched over him.


15.12.06

-------------------------------------
End


I wonder if this can be made into a short film. :)

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, everyone!

© cheong lee san ( dsnake1 )

Angel

No poetry today! I am trying my hand at story-telling.

I think Charles Dickens' "A Christmas Carol" is the ultimate Christmas story. I like it for its wonderful characters, its craftsmanship, and of course its political undertones of poverty and social injustice. A timeless classic, it is a tale that is relevant today as it was in the Victorian times it was written.

I have been cynical and grouchy and bad-tempered this year. So I have written this little Christmas story, a tale about hope and redemption. I hope my readers will like it. I promise to post a poem the next time around.


image by dsnake1


Angel


1.

He stood at the train platform, waiting for the train to arrive. The large TV monitor above him flashed 10.00 p.m and announced that the train will reach the station in another two minutes. Two hours to Christmas and in two minutes his sufferings will end. All around him were people talking, laughing, giggling, lugging last minute Christmas shopping, all absorbed in the festive spirit.

He looked down at the shopping mall and the shops around the train station, where he had wandered, like a dazed man, for the last two hours. It was a tough decision to make. But the world was just too unfair to him. Why did his company laid him off while less deserving ones stayed? He was unemployed for nearly a year, not that he did not try to get employment. It was either they had someone for the job, or that he was too old. He watched as his savings dwindled, until it was gone. His wife had to go out to work at a fast food joint to help out, and he felt sorry for his daughter, for he could not afford a proper meal for her each day, let alone the computer she had so wanted.

Two months back, a man in his same situation had jumped onto a rail track, in the path of an approaching train, killing himself. The case was given wide coverage in the media, after the dead man’s plight was made known. Donations from a sympathetic public were made to the man’s family. Large donations. He hoped this will repeat with him. If his death will result in a better life for his family, it was a trade-off he would gladly make.

As he inched himself nearer to the edge of the platform, he felt a gentle tug at his hand. A little girl, maybe not yet ten, smiled at him, holding up a tin can. “Hello sir, donation to the poor?” For a child so young, her voice rang with a clarity he had never heard before, like a choral hymn he had heard once when he was young.

The little girl had jet black hair, pulled back in a neat ponytail and fastened with a floral band. She had on a pure white frock laced with gold trimmings. It was a rare outfit to see on a girl these days, what with their denims, shorts and camo prints. Her clear brown eyes shone with such an intense innocence and compassion he had not seen before. He dug in his pocket for his last five dollar note, folded it, and put it in the can. He squatted down and took a closer look at the girl.

She so reminded him of his daughter, they were about the same age. He noted that her daughter was leagues away from this one, but he loved his daughter all his life. There were almost tears in his eyes, as he pointed at the plain-looking tin can and asked her what charity was that. Salvation Army? Spastic Children?

The little girl smiled and pointed at the TV monitor above him. He looked up and instead of the usual ads for movies and train arrival times, a tableau of a person’s life unfolded before him. He recognized the person as himself. There he was at his wedding, laughing and holding his bride. The happy day when his daughter arrived. And then the scene changed, he was walking towards the edge of the platform, as if a few moments ago, the train screaming into the station. And finally, he saw his wife, gaunt, eyes swollen from tears, calling his name, and his daughter calling for her father.

He wanted to say, no, stop this! He stood transfixed, as if a fossil frozen in time, a million thoughts tumbling through his brain. Suddenly, he remembered the girl, and turned his head to look for her. But she was gone; he was standing alone in a deserted train station.

When he looked up at the TV monitor again, it was flashing 10.00 pm and announced that the train will reach the station in another two minutes. All around him were people talking, laughing, giggling, lugging last minute Christmas shopping, all absorbed in the festive spirit. And then he felt a calm he had not known for a long time, covering him like a warm blanket, coursing all inside him. He knew exactly what he had to do. As the train curved into the station, he ran.


( to be continued...)

Angel (part 2)

image by dsnake1

Angel (part 2)


2.

He ran down the stairs of the train station, walked briskly across the hall, through the turnstiles, and out of the station. The night crowd was still thick. There were the families going home, the hungry diners at the delis and McDonalds, the all-night revelers going to the nightspots in the city.

When he found a coin-phone at a shop, he fumbled in his pockets for the last few coins that were his entire fortune. He called home and almost immediately, his wife picked up the phone. She sounded relieved. “Oh, we were so worried about you, are you coming home soon?”
“I love you, honey”, he said. He had wanted to say that from the time he came out of the station. There was a short pause and he thought he heard her sobbed,
“I love you too,” she said, and added “I bought some food from the KFC. It’s not much, but I thought on the night before Christmas, we will have something better…”
He was trying hard to fight back his tears.
“I will be back soon,” he said. “Tell Ah Girl daddy loves her too.”
“I will. And another thing, a HR person from the logistics company that you apply for a job called this evening. He said they would like to talk to you again, two days after Christmas.”

The night was cool. December nights in the tropics usually are. A breeze was blowing, and he thought he heard carols drifting with the wind. Overhead, the sky was a canvas of navy blue, strips of cirrus clouds floating like wisps of candy floss. The street lights shone like welcome beacons, casting warm glows on the crowds hurrying under them. From where he was, it would be another few minutes to reach his home, if he walked briskly. Trying to fight back his tears, he told his wife that he would be back home soon.

He hurried along the corridor of his apartment block, hoping to reach home as soon as possible. His daughter was already at the gate, waiting for him. He squatted down and hugged her, something he had not done for some time. His wife, beaming, walked across the tiny hall to greet him. Behind her, on the dining table, was a red and white paper box. No turkey, no ham, and the fried chicken were getting cold, but he knew that it will be the most delicious chicken he will eat in his life.

As he prepared to walk into his house, he turned his head to take a brief look at the sky. A tiny point of light sparkled, and seemed to wink at him. He smiled, his tears of joy now flowing freely. He knew somewhere up there, there was a little girl who had watched over him.


15.12.06

-------------------------------------
End