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Somewhere in July, Malaysia.

I was in my house. Strangely so, a house made of mud, wood and dried grass. There were shouts from below, a procession of people with torches in their hands. Houses, like mine, burning from afar. I don’t know why. And there he was, beside me, my husband. I don’t know him, can’t recognise his face, yet I know he was my husband. We were looking out from the window below. And then he looked at me with fear in his eyes. There was a fleeting worry, but just so for a second. Fear overtook that very eyes, and he shook his head. “I can’t follow”, he muttered slowly. I felt a rush of sadness, but also felt expectancy. I was expecting that answer. So I made my way downstairs. Out of my house. Someone grabbed my hands, pushed me in a little group of scared-looking people, surrounded by the angry crowd. Despite the uncomforting expressions they wore, somehow, being here comforted me more than I was with my husband back then. We were marched to someone’s garden in front of a house. I saw a man, he was one of them. Yet he didn’t look angry, he looked at us pityingly. “There’s still a chance. Say you’re not a follower”. I said “There’s still a chance for you too. Follow.” And he laughed, the kind of laughter that stole whatever kindness I saw previously. “And what do I get? THIS? Do you get to laugh like I do now?” and I knew my case was lost. They put us in a row. Kneeling, looking down. I turned my back on them, I’d rather not see for I’m afraid I’ll lose the will, the courage I had for this decision. I heard faint sobs, cries. And I heard the clicks of something metallic. “So who’s first?”, someone was saying. A thought came fleeting through my mind. What does it feel like? Death? And then I felt something cold against the nape of my neck. And a ‘snatched’ feeling, the kind u feel when

ur in Solero Shot in Genting Highland. Darkness. And I woke up, crying not because I was scared, but for longing for it not to be a dream.

Comments: It felt real, this one. Like I’m in someone else’s body, witnessing someone else’s real experience.

This entry was posted on Sunday, October 7th, 2007 at 5:31 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.