The Movie

"Can I have F15, please?" I pointed at the tiny screen displaying the seats for "The Ugly Ghost", which would be screened at 7: 50 PM.

"Just one seat, sir?" The beautiful, pink-bloused counter lady with the ponytail beamed widely.

"Yes, just one! This new place is pretty quiet, isn't it? Apparently, I might be the only one watching this movie at 7: 50PM." I attempted to be a little bit more friendly, strangely feeling sorry for her. After all this place looked almost deserted, and for someone as stunning as she was, with her oval-shaped face, her black silky hair that was tied at the back into a ponytail, and a smile that could virtually melt your heart, it was undeniable that she belonged to a more decent place worthy of being more frequently visited by enthusiastic movie goers.

"Just watch out! It's Pchum Ben, after all! You never know what is in store for you ... in addition to the movie, sir!" She smiled again. My knees almost turned to jelly. 

"I can't wait! Just wish me luck, alright!" I smiled. Before she could get any more flirtatious with me, the man in the black suit, holding a walkie-talkie, marched in our direction, his eyes darting to the smiling counter lady, to me--apparently beaming like an idiot, and then back to the lady again.

Sensing the approaching presence of the man, she quickly typed here and there, and produced a ticket for me.

"3 Dollars, sir! Enjoy your movie!" She smiled again, and I returned the smile, stole a glance at the man, and walked in the direction of Hall 3.

After having my ticket inspected at the entrance of Hall 3, I took slow careful steps on the carpeted floor before my eyes could adjust to the darkness that engulfed the entire hall. F15, I reminded myself as I climbed up the steps, cautiously scrutinising the lighted letter at the beginning of each row. Once I found Row F, it was just a matter of seconds before I spotted my assigned seat. I settled down comfortably, swivelling around to see whether there had been any earlier arrivals. However, I was the only one in the hall. Chill ran down my spine and arms, giving me goosebumps. It was just the air con, I reassured myself, letting my thoughts wander off to the lady's joke. Pchum Ben … You never know what is in store for you. I shook the thought off my head.

The lights of the hall dimmed, and the gigantic canvas screen came into life. First, it was the teaser of Lucy. Then it was Sex Tape. Then … blackout. Dead silence hung over the hall. The only sound I could discern was from my heart that was beating more rapidly than usual. Pitch darkness swallowed up the entire hall. I reached down inside my right pocket for my phone as the source of light, but I found nothing except for some pieces of paper, which I assumed were the money notes. Then I reached down inside the left pocket, only to find nothing was there. I gave a long sigh of frustration in the total darkness and then bent forward, my fingers trying to feel my bag that had been positioned there after I took a seat. My fingers then felt the rough texture of the bag, and continued to run up and down the canvas material until they found the zip. Without further ado, I zipped it open, reached further down inside the bag, and withdrew the phone. I fumbled clumsily on the buttons of the phone, which as a result, projected some light.

I held my phone up in the air so that the light would cast its effect further into the darkness before where I was perching. To my surprise, three rows down, I could make out the outlines of some heads here and there, covered in black hair, some short and some so long that it went cascading down all the way to the waist. My heart was hammering against my chest. My pulses quickened. I swallowed hard. Don't be silly, Vendy, I reassured myself. They were late for the show, and that's why you didn't see them coming in. 

Then my hair stood on end. All of a sudden, I felt … breathing on my neck. It was warm. It smelled like rotten food. The stench stung my nostrils. Despite my inner effort to calm my nerves, my hands started trembling. Without turning around to investigate the source of the breathing, I snatched my half-opened bag forcibly off the floor, and with the little light the phone was shedding onto the carpet, I took to my heels. I ran so fast for my life. I bumped into sharp corners, yet I bolted so quickly for the entrance where I had come in earlier.

<EXIT>

The <EXIT> sign was flickering green as if waiting to spit me out of the nightmarish experience. With all my might, I ran towards the closed doors without thinking twice about how such an act could land me in a hospital for weeks. It's ok. It's ok. Run for the door and it's all over. Before I could reach the doors, they suddenly flung open from the outside. I came to an abrupt halt, gasping for air, and casting the light from my phone onto the sight before me.

I clutched my phone so tightly as if it was the last hope I had for survival, and raised it up high in the air to get a clearer view of the entire place. I turned around a few times to look for the cinema staff. The counter lady. The walkie-talkie man. Anyone at all.

There was no one!

My heart sank. My knees began shaking. It wasn't the lobby of the cinema! It wasn't the same place! It was … an abandoned building!

My phone shed light on the pile of the rubble before me. I shut my eyes tightly, opened them again, grit my teeth, and took a few shaky steps towards the pile to get a close-up look. Apparently, the pile was the result of the fallen ceiling since the light from my phone revealed a rather uneven hole in the above ceiling.

"Hello?" I cleared my throat and shouted out, attempting to conceal the fear that was creeping its way up and was ready to eat me up alive. The only reply to my question was its echo, reverberating throughout the deserted building. And then I felt something was … moving.

The pile of the rubble started stirring itself, stones at the top rolling down all the way to the bottom. No, no, no! Please, please, please! I wanted to run, yet my feet were rooted to the ground. My entire body was shaking like a leaf. Cold beads of sweat formed over my upper lip. My heart was palpitating so fast I knew it would burst out of my chest any moment. Yet my eyes were fixed on the rumbling rubble. Then I saw … it.

A crooked hand, bashed by the mighty force of the fallen ceiling, made its way out of the rubble pile. Then a head. The blood was gushing out of the hollow skull, streaming down the disfigured face. Slowly the figure rose to its full height. A smashed-up head, attached to the  still-intact body wrapped around in a pink blouse, legless and one arm dangling, swinging lifelessly midair.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, but no voice came out. The figure zoomed towards me until its face was only inches away from mine. Then …

"Just one seat, sir?"

I slowly opened my eyes. The disfigured face was gone. I was back in the same lobby I had once come in. I was still shaking from head to toe, and I was staring into the same eyes of the same beautiful, pink-bloused counter lady.

"What's going on?" I tried to conceal my fear, but my voice faltered.

"Just watch out! It's Pchum Ben, after all! You never know what's in store for you … in addition to the movie, sir!" She smiled at me.

Then the same man with the walkie-talkie walked in our direction, looking first at the counter lady, then at me, and finally back at the counter lady again.

I summoned all my might, and without another word, dashed out of the lobby, down the stairs, and towards my car parked on the ground floor … the only car on the ground floor. I fumbled for my car key in the pocket, and then tried to steady my shaky hand. Once I successfully opened the door, I jumped in, inserted the key, and started the engine. But something in the rear mirror caught my attention.

In the back seat, the beautiful, pink-bloused counter lady was smiling broadly at me, handing me a crumpled sheet of paper in her hand.

"3 Dollars, sir! Enjoy your movie!"

THE END.

How It Starts

She was pissed off! She had just flunked CE202 Revision Test 2! “I shouldn’t have crammed in the last minute,” she mumbled to herself. She was trudging slothfully under IFL bridge towards the main gate when a few chuckling boys were rushing past her towards the gate, knocking her neatly-filed green plastic folder off her grasp so that it spilled the guts all over the hard scorching cemented pathway. “SERIOUSLY?” she let out an outrage! While the other two boys chose to ignore the sight and continued as fast as their tiny little pale legs could carry them towards the gate, one of them came to an abrupt halt, swiveled back, and gave one apologetic smile before taking to his heels again.

Not wishing to make a dramatic scene to the passers-by, she quickly got down to her knees, and with some hasty hand movements, managed to stuff everything back inside the folder. She stole a glance at her watch, and she immediately knew her tuk-tuk driver must have been waiting for some time by now. With her left arm hugging the folder more tightly this time, she slung her bag over her right shoulder, got to her feet, and started darting in the direction of the gate.

It was 6pm, and the sky was already engulfed by complete darkness. As soon as she hopped onto the soft comfy seat of the tuk tuk she had been so familiar with for the last 2 years, she fished around in her pocket and withdrew the 4-year-old Nokia N70 phone. Like any other days in the last two years, verbal direction of where she wanted to go was not needed since home was the only destination for her after this hour.

The tuk-tuk was purring with pleasure at the speed of 40 km/h. The chilly breeze of the December night was touching her rosy cheeks so softly that she could not resist the temptation to lean her aching back onto the soothing leather-like tuk-tuk couch and fix her eyes on the tiny screen of her phone. With a beep sound that was almost drowned out by the noisy buzz of the nightlife, another text message popped up on her screen.

Don’t be upset! Chill! I am sure there are many good things in store for you. After all, it’s not like it’s the first time you flunked your test, anyway :P

Her lips stretched to form a smile. It never ceased to amaze her how she could have kept in touch with a complete stranger through multiple texts each day over a period of one year. It all had started out of boredom with a “Hi” text to a random number. She could still recall how nervous and excited she was after receiving a humorous reply that said, “Bored much? LOL let’s do this!” If there had been something as fate, this must have been it! Before she knew it, she found herself being drawn to him the way a tiny helpless needle stuck to a magnet. Though the bond grew mysteriously stronger, he had always refused to let her know everything about him. She had tried on various occasions to unmask him, but to no avail. Despite her undying desire to know who he was, she respected him too much to risk losing him by forcing him into putting himself in the spotlight.

Suddenly the tuk tuk driver pulled over and screeched to a halt in front of the tall lofty Canadia Tower. She looked around, bewildered! Before she could lean forward to ask the tuk tuk driver about what was going on, the driver hopped off his seat, walked towards her slowly, took off his cap, and apologized profusely.

“I’m sorry! My wife needs to deliver the baby in a few hours. I need to drop you off here!” She could barely see his face as the bright street lights were blinding her eyes, but she managed to force a smile out of confusion.

“It’s ok! I’ll flag for another tuk tuk. Congrats!”

“No. No. I already asked my brother-in-law to fetch you from here. He’s also a tuk tuk driver. Please wait for 10 mins or so.”

She half-opened her mouth to turn the offer down but ended up smiling gratefully instead as she was sure at this hour, it would not be easy to flag for a tuk tuk, especially from Canadia Tower. As soon as the tuk tuk was swallowed up by the glittering sea of moving vehicles, she glanced at her watch and after deciding to kill her time by strolling in the Tower, dashed towards the sliding doors that slid open admitting her inside.

“Attention, please! Sok Daphea, please proceed to the fourth floor!” A soft beautiful voice blared out from the tiny black speakers dangling rather dangerously from the ceiling of the Canadia Tower.

Did she just call out my name? Yeah, Daphea! That’s my name! Did I do something wrong? Nervousness was welling up inside her. A cold tingling sensation started to run down her neck all the way to the base of her spine. Casting furtive glances around, trying to ascertain that nobody had taken heed of the announcement, she dashed back towards the sliding door. But she was only inches away from the door when a fat angry-looking security guard in dark blue uniform emerged blocking her way, his bloating belly seeming to bear the most weight.

“Please go to the FOURTH floor, madam!” The security guard, with crossed arms, put so much emphatic stress on the word “fourth” that he almost sounded furious at her attempt to flee the building. Feeling confused and trapped, she had no choice but to drag herself slowly towards the lift, got into it, pressed number four, waited anxiously, and upon arrival, stepped out very carefully. However, she was not quite prepared for the sight that greeted her eyes.

She was standing rooted to the marble floor of the long hallway, mesmerized by the small notes in bright orange—her favorite color—that were plastered all over both walls of the hallway leading towards the iron door, the exit access to the large open space of the fourth floor. It took her a few seconds to realize that the notes were not blank notes but bore handwritten words. Curiosity was pulling at her heart’s strings, and therefore, succumbing to the temptation, she carefully took down the orange note closest to her. The note read:

LOL I am glad you feel better and gladER I am of assistance to you :)

The sentence sounded familiar to her, but it did not ring a bell. Slowly she moved along the hallway reading some notes on the right, some on the left and then on the right again. She repeated the cycle until she reached the iron door. Her eyes caught sight of a bigger note in pink that was stuck on the door itself.

Daphea, are you ready? Take a deep breath and please open the door :)

She did take a deep breath, reaching down to touch the cold doorknob, turned it, and pushed it open.

Orange rose petals carpeted the floor of the open space, in the middle of which stood a raised wooden platform supported by four short pillars wrapped around with pink roses and leaves. Strings of orange neon lights were zigzagging overhead so that they formed a resemblance of a gigantic glowing flowery canopy. On the left, random photos of hers taken from her daily school life were being projected on the enormous white sheet, ranging from the one in which she was dressed up as Oganda for the role play to the one in which she was spoon-feeding her female friend at the canteen.

She literally gasped in awe, letting everything in sight sink in slowly. It was so fairy-like that she had to pinch herself to ensure she was not fantasizing. Still struck by disbelief, she made her way gracefully towards the platform, taking each step very cautiously so as not to trample on the rose petals. Upon getting onto the platform, she remained still, her heart racing with excitement. Suddenly the iron door swung open revealing a guy with a white shirt tucked into black trousers. From where she was waiting eagerly, she could not figure out who the guy was. Just as she was about to step down the platform and walk towards him, her phone beeped and a text popped up.

I am sure you are not upset anymore :) And hope the security guard did NOT give you a hard time LOL.

She buried her face in her hands, sobbing out of sheer excitement and joy. She could feel her face blushing and burning with heat. It was only when she felt a slight tap on her shoulder that she let her hands go of her face and looked up. There, in front of her on the platform under the manmade starry sky, surrounded by beautiful rose petals, stood the guy she had texted everyday for one year, the guy who finally revealed himself in person, the guy who made all this possible, and the guy she actually had bumped into earlier at school today!

“Hi! My name is Sophorn.” Smiling shyly, he extended his right hand for a handshake. She smiled back at him, looked him straight in the eyes for the first time after one year, the pair of eyes she had always been wishing to see, and finally shook his hand gently but firmly.

“Hi, I am Daphea. Nice to meet you! This is a nice way of introducing yourself.”

They were lost in each other’s eyes. And it was just the end of the beginning!

Strangers

I squeezed her hand gently. It was warm. It was tender. Yet, it was lifeless! She seemed to be lost in the state of serenity and transquility, lost in the world not quite like the one I was in—the world she would refer to as the “ghost garden” full with blossoming scarlet red roses and tall shady green trees, but deserted and abandoned! I remembered how it tore me apart, cuddling her in the middle of the night with reassuring words, each time after—as if awakened by some evil invisible force—she screeched at the very top of her voice, “Help me! Help me! Get me out of the stupid garden! I am scared!” Despite the fact that she was lying asleep in the sickeningly white patient’s uniform tucked under the awfully white sheet in the hospital bed which was nothing but white, she was still a beauty, a sleeping beauty! Her long back silky hair still dazzled when caught in the reflection of the florescent light that was illuminating the ward. Her pointed nose, on the bridge of which would normally rest the black-framed specs, just went so well with the soft rosy lips, still rosy against the odds of the Alzeihmer that had sucked not only the energy out of her, but also her livelihood!

*****

It was all started with a simple click, the click on the word “Accept” on Facebook, the click that gave birth to the bond between us, and the click that taught me a life lesson of true passionate love! Admittedly, I was a Facebook enthusiast! Never did I nod my head in genuine agreement when some nerdy-looking classmates of mine came forward and started babbling about how much time could be saved up for the late-night self-study on the chapter on fishing in GS or for the lengthy WS entry about abortion to be handed in the next day, all in the absence of what they termed as “the inconsiderable obsession with Facebook”. In their creased white shirt and pants which could almost literally cover them from head to toe, they would corner me like a hungry cat eyeing a strayed pathetic mouse and snatch my black, nicely polished iphone before venturing into the usual typical lecture-like advice about how “life-destructive” Facebook could be to students like them and me. I would normally smile at them, trying as much as I could to translate the smile into a non-fake sign of appreciation—though with little success. To me, Facebook was an electronic home port, a place where geographical distance between my best friends in the States and me mattered little, and a place where I could get all the frustration and stress that weighed me down off my chest. And without Facebook, I would not have had a chance to step over the threshold into her world!

I was not sure whether it was by the sheer stroke of luck or it was the handwork of God; what I knew and was certain of was the feeling of floating in the air, the feeling of being on the verge of being unable to tell apart a reality and a dream, when her name and her picture of herself with her black-framed glasses resting slightly towards the edge of the nose bridge, holding an unopened yogurt box, popped up in my friend request list. Wanting to get to know her had always been a wish upon a falling star. I had caught fleeting glimpses of her usually in her white blouse and her pleated knee-length skirt on and off the campus, especially when it was around 3 30pm in front of Building C. There was something magnetic about her that drew me closer to her, something strangely familiar. However, I had always known I was just like a forgettable fan in a huge crowd who had done quite a thorough research about her, yet whose existence had been of little significance—if any—to her.

I found myself clicking “Like” on almost every single update about her ranging from the silly video clip of two blonde American toddlers trying to strangle each other to death, the kind of video I would normally have hated myself for even bothering to lay my eyes on, to her very daily status update about her showering! One week passed with my eyes being glued to the computer screen, my butts being stitched up with the cold iron chair, and my finger hitting the “refresh” button every five second to see if there were any updates from her, updates that would allow me some room—however small it might be—to not only “Like” but also “Comment” on her status.

It was the 10th of May. It was the day of dark clouds stretching all over the sky, lit up occasionally by the bright and sudden flashes of lightning. It was the day that most probably hated, but the day I dearly loved and would never let go of my mind! It was the day that I—for the first time—had an actual conversation with her!

The rain was pouring down. The wind was howling. The sky was pitch dark. This bloody umbrella wouldn’t save me from this savage rain! I grimaced at the thought, and still lingered on the corridor of Building C, occasionally giving hateful stares at the raging sky as if by doing so, the rain would relent. Just as I was about to venture into the unsheltered openness with my umbrella in my right hand, I heard a painful cry, and it was just within seconds before I could figure out who the girl who had just slid over the slippery wet earth was. It was her! I was already on my heels dashing towards her before my reasoning had any chance to obstruct me. Neither did I greet her nor look at her face and be lost in her beauty which stood against the test of such a natural and wet condition. My mind was too preoccupied with her own physical safety to make sense out of what I was being engaged in. I grabbed her cold trembling hand, made sure she clenched the umbrella I was offering her so that she was now sheltered from the rain, and slid her other free arm over my shoulder before rising to my feet, and therefore, lifting her up to her feet as well, though she was still shaky from the harsh coldness and the bleeding wound on her knees. She summoned her might and gave me a weak smile. I was lost in eyes! My heart skipped a beat. We were standing so close together under the umbrella. I was warm in the cold!

Sensing the awkward silence, she began talking, “Thanks, JaJo!”

I froze! She knew my name!

She continued, trying to explain herself, “I am sorry! I mean, this is the name you use in Facebook. I have no idea what your real name is.”

I chuckled and scratched my head in embarrassment. For ten good minutes or so, we were lost in one small, heart-warming world, shared by just the two of us, sheltered by one protective umbrella, without paying heeds to the surrounding. This marked an important milestone as the beginning of our relationship!

Two years into the relationship with her was heavenly … until one day!

It was a scorchingly hot day! Despite the fact that colours tended to fade from her face, leaving it a pale worried one, in her white robe embroidered with flowery designs, and with her long silky hair tied back into a ponytail, she was still a raw beauty as she was clutching my left hand so tightly, dreading the diagnosis result in the waiting room. I gave a slight squeeze onto her hand, and smiled reassuringly. She smiled back, understanding my intention. I was staring blankly at those haggard-looking faces of the patients whose names were called out, and who, sobbed their hearts out, after glancing through the result sheet for a few minutes. For the first time in my life, I felt scared! I really was! I just could not fathom how a young beautiful girl like her would have to be sitting next to me in this heart-wrenching room, witnessing the dramatic scene before me. I just could not fathom how people always worshipped God who kept throwing swords of the unexpected at them, tearing people apart.

I shook my head, trying to shake the thoughts off, and tried not to let my fear engulf me, though with little success. In the past few months, she had been unusually forgetful! She suddenly could not recall the name of her puppy she so dearly loved. Neither could she remember where she studied as an undergraduate. I was most worried when I received a phone call from her one day, “Where are you? I … I … don’t know how to get back home. I … I … can’t remember where it is!” There was even one tragic time when she laughed so hard at my joke about the monkey and the banana, and after an awkward pause of mere searching for something in my face with a frown and tearful eyes, she broke into hysterical sobs. It was only when she pulled herself together again did she reveal the root cause, “I tried! But I couldn’t remember your name!” I remembered how my heart sank and my knees went weak upon hearing those words, yet I was always quick to pull everything back into the usual nothing-wrong-is-happening-and-you-are-just-tired routine by holding her rosy face with my hands, and saying, “You are just tired, dear!”

I was brought back into the coldness of the reality when my name was called out by the nurse! Be strong! No matter what, you needa be strong, man! I gave her hand a little squeeze one more time, and faked a smile, before slowly rising to my feet, and trudging towards where the nurse was waiting rather impatiently. I swiveled around and looked at her, but she was staring at her toes instead. My hands shook, and I hated how I could not be in full control of how my body should be functioning at the moment. With a few times of clumsy flipping, I managed to unfold the result slip. My heart was pounding. My eyes were quickly skipping words and numbers and words and numbers before laying fixed on the italicized words: RETOGRADE AMNESIA. I rushed towards where she was still sitting, and hugged her so tightly before she could utter a word!

*****

Her hand jerked, and my thoughts were interrupted. She was gazing into my eyes now, and she went deep beyond, attempting to search for something quite unknown to me. I looked back at her trying to read her expression, and before I could ask her anything, she slowly opened her mouth, and let three words out, the three words that killed me on the inside, “Who are you?”