Sense: Three Short Descriptive Passages

1.The Soft Dolphin

The sun shed a shaft of orange light on the clouds, dyeing them from white to orange.

Under the handiwork of nature, clouds were clustered, and kneaded into a vivid dolphin-like little child rubbing clay, transforming the entire space into a calm ocean. Every subtle movement of the dolphin—an attention-getter—brought me on a voyage.This was momentary instant, when the landscape was split in half—an ocean and a mass of orange-dyed clouds. The colours harmonized; blue, orange and white mildly, constructing a peaceful coexistence. They compelled me to watch, gazing upon the sky, struck with fascination.

I wondered, what a coincidence…

2. The Dripping of the Tap

“Tik, Tok, Tik”…The dripping of the tap cut through the gentle aura of the midnight. I peeked at the clock through the darkness. It was one o’clock in the morning. And I was again suffering from insomnia.

Fragments of life struck me: projects, homework, quizzes, dreams, career, and the relentless pursuit of knowledge that tired me out. And I thought, somberness always has the power to sweep our glee away, reminding us of work and burden.

Once again, I looked at the clock—three in the morning; once again, the dripping sound of the tap ran towards me, hypnotizing me, the insomniac, to sleep.

Eventually, my eyelids couldn’t resist the pull of gravity, a sweet kip before a fresh day.

Sense

Its dripping nose, its twinkling eyes, its pointed whiskers, its inflated paunch…and the other myriad specialties of its flabby silhouette, have occupied a large portion of my memory. Every subtle, little movement—the blinking of its eyes, flapping of its tail, and sneezing of its nose—is captured by my eyes; every soft sound—whimpering for forgiveness—has beenrecorded by my ears.

Thousands of imaged are crammed into my brain as if I were an album. This one, it was having a blast with a doll—it’s one and the only toy—grinning, its eyes almost closed. That one, it was smacking its lips, engrossed in the pet snack held in my hand, pleading for a bite. As I blink, one more photo snaps in my eyes. It rolls onto its silky back to get its belly scratched, complacent.

As the pages of the calendar are flicked over, memories seemed to jostle for heed, cluttering my brain up. Schoolwork, family, friends seem striking my pet out of my memory, dominating my schedule, isolating “it”.

~by Sandy Lam (2E, 11/12)

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