Desolation and Despair

It all started with the quarrels at night. He could hear them from the next room, and even the pillow didn't help shut the voices up. Then came the cold war. Then the ultimatum.

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It all became a blur. Suitcases packed. Furniture moving around. Neither seemed to be at home anymore. Kind words of comfort. In rare cases.

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"There" the matron signed the last of the few forms and shut her book. You can join the others in the dormitory now.

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" You will be good, right? " the social worker smiled and with a small tap on his head, she stood up, turned and walked away, mentally crossing out his name out of her endless list of charges.

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He was alone. Just one of the few thousands left to fend for themselves. Without the warm arms of their mothers, nor the firm muscular shoulders of their father.
They were alone.

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He stood amongst the others in the crowded MRT as the train left the station, carrying a black bag, too bulky for a normal day. People's faces whizzed past. Fleeting images, soon to be forgotten by those who were present.

He stared at the window of the train. It was dark, empty, forboding. Nothing. A blank void.

There was nothing worth living for. Life better off without. Existence was futile; hopeless; meaningless.

A teardrop rolled down his cheek.

He stared once more out of the window. Oblivious to the crowd around him, he saw only himself, desitute and lonely. Alone.

His hand found the small button at his side.


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42 killed, 89 injured

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Go figure.

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Just another of my sparks while i was riding the MRT this morning. dunno why i was thinking such morbid thoughts..

(my writing is getting from bad to worse..)
=(