April 27, 2008

# 9864

It's hidden in between layers and layers of tissue paper.
It's carefully placed inside a plain, wooden box.
That box is in another box.
That other other box has jewels attached.
It's wrapped.
Twice.
The wrapping paper is filled with little smiley faces.
With a mix of colors like baby pink and sky blue.
Ribbons are tied around it.
There's even a bow on the very top.

It's a gift.

It's cute.
Not too cute that some might find it distant.
They all feel an unusual connection to it the very first time they see it.
Everyone wants it.
They need it.
They have to own it.

They line up.
One behind another.
They look at each other.
Up and down.
They smile at each other.
They talk.
How fortunate they would be if they can just be the one.
To possess it.
To hold it.
To cherish it.
Because it just deserves that much care.
That much attention.

They wait.
For hours.
For days.
For months.

They smile when they think of how happy they will be, soon.
They cuss when they think of how much time has passed by.
They cry because they don't know how long they can still wait.
Their legs are sore.
They're hungry.
They're thirsty.
Then they laugh.
They laugh at how foolish it is to complain.
They want it.
They still do.

Finally. 
It is annouced.
# 9864 will be the one.
The one who just decides to join the line five minutes ago.
The rest of them look at #9864 with admiration.
They're jealous.
They leave.
With disappointment.
With tears.

# 9864 looks at it.
Not sure why they all wanted it.
But he must want it too.
He pays.
With all the money that he earned mowing the lawn, during that burning hot summer.
He holds it.
Both hands at once.
He brings it home.

He observes.
The beautiful box.
It must not be opened.
It's precious.
It cannot and should not be altered.
Must be the exact same as it was.
Day after day.
Weeks after weeks.
He decides to open it.

Bow off.
Ribbons off.
Wrapping paper falls.
Jewels drop.
Box cracks.
Tissue paper down.

Nothing.

Empty.

Whatever "it" is.

"It" is not there.


He sits still.
He thinks.
The smiley faces are now all over the floor around him.
They seem to be laughing.
At him.

It must be his fault.
It was he who decided to open it.
Maybe it wasn't meant to be opened.

He puts the tissue paper in the box.
Jewels are attached again.
Smiley faces back to where they belong.
Ribbons too.
Bow on the very top.
That's the way it should be.

He returns it.
At 4 am.
It is once again where it was before.
He walks away.
Alone.

They line up again.
And they wait.
To be the next one.
The next lucky # 9864.

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Personal Category: Uncategorized Articles Topic: feeling
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Reply
  • 1樓

    1樓搶頭香

    又寫這種對看的人無意義的東西
    寫一些有趣的不行嘛

  • Julian at April 29, 2008 12:10 PM comment
  • 2樓

    2樓頸推

    唉~~~~
    你真的狠無聊吼你
    閒~~~~

  • a126543074 at April 29, 2008 12:42 PM comment
  • 3樓

    3樓坐沙發

    i finished it -_-
    most of ppl only care about the outside appearances i guess..
    whered u see all these articles ah? send me the link!

  • ... at May 1, 2008 02:44 AM comment
  • 4樓

    福樓

    OK
    從頭看到尾
    好像不是那麼沒意義
    我道歉

    只是還是不太懂
    是期待太高 跌的很深
    所以要以牙還牙嘛!

  • Julian at May 8, 2008 09:54 AM comment
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