Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.


After glancing impatiently at the clock on my desk multiple times, the hands finally displayed a time of 6 o’clock. Immediately, I grabbed my jacket and rushed out the cubicle, dashed across the hallway and out into the street with a light smile on my face.


Walking to my car parked on the corner, I hummed a song and stretched, taking in the fresh, evening air with a deep breath. After a tedious week at work, I couldn’t wait to enjoy the idyll of my room and play some videogames to start off the weekend with a bang.  


Buzz buzz.


However, just before I unlocked my car, my cellphone vibrated in my jacket. The screen read STEVE.  


Buzz buzz. Buzz buzz. Buzz Buzz.

I sighed and reluctantly answered it. This better be good.


“Hello?” I said.


“Why did you take so long to pick up? Come home quick! Something’s wrong with dad!” A voice tinged with urgency sounded into my ears. For several seconds I stood on the sidewalk in a daze and my voice stuck in my throat.


“What are you doing? He’s breathing wrong!” Steve shouted.


“I’m on my way!” I said and then hung up, What’s wrong with dad? What happened? I could only quickly race into the car and speed home.


  •  ●  ●


As I approached my house, I noticed an abnormal amount of sedans littering the area. My heart thumped in my chest.


The front door was ajar. I got out of the car as fast as I could and ran inside. Hearing commotion in the living room, I rushed in and saw at least 20 people. I recognized a few of them as uncles and aunts, but some of them I had never seen before.


“Finally you’re here! Come see dad!” Steve walked up to me and dragged me by the hand to my father’s room, where he was bundled up in white sheets and a IV drip in his arm. I gasped.


“Hey princess,” He wheezed weakly. “Come on over, I don’t bite.”


I let out a sigh in relief. At least he could still have a sense of humour.


“What’s going on? Who are all those people? And why was Steve so urgent?” I fired out multiple questions. My father simply smiled. His cold hands held my own, looking at me with a soft gaze. Then his eyes turned sharp.


“I have something to tell you.” He said something seriously, for once. “Don’t be confused.”


“What are you talking about?” I asked in apprehension as cold sweat dripped down my back. “I don’t understand. I’m confused.”


“Hi confused,” He said, tightly gripping my hand as if not wanting to let go. “I’m passing away.”


Martin Chua

Martin Chua was born in 1987, in the remote region of Seychelles, a small island off the coast of Africa. He grew up fast, learning to walk at the age of 15 days and learning to speak fluent English in only 2 months. Nowadays Martin spends his time on the VCWriters Blog protecting the world from injustice and unlawful persecution.

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