mph contest

The ropes eat into my skin as I bend over the guillotine like a rolled hotdog, my crude blindfold growing soggy. Although it?s pitch dark, I have never been more attuned to my surroundings. The air is pregnant with dried blood and the decay of flies. A muted chant swells in the crowd. I picture the crowd watching, Adams? apples bobbing up and down nervously, fingernails piercing into moist palms- wanting to tear their eyes away yet needing to watch my slaughter.

Rewind.

?Din, wake up!? With superhuman strength, I pry my eyelids open. Miss Rose towers above me, her eyes threatening to bulge out of its sockets. Muffled giggles litter the background. Grinning at her sheepishly, I wipe a smear of drool subtly. ?Sorry, Miss. I was just resting my eyes.? ?Sausages and pigsties.? She sniffs in her thick English accent before passing on. Limah, with the maggi mee pigtails turns to me. ?What magic did you use on her? She seemed almost? nice.? We hoot in unison. Miss Rose and nice did not belong in the same sentence. It was a universal law that her one drive was to make our lives a living hell.
Ringgggg!!! ?Recess!? I shout as my belly rumbles. I could practically taste the spicy anchovy sambal drizzled over fluffy white rice in a cocoon of fried omelet. I maneuver past the swarms of half-starved students in a move that would have made Jet Li proud. An alien force seemed to move my legs. All I could think of was: Must. Get. Nasi- OW! A warm object emerges from below, sandwiched between me and the wall. Uh-oh.
?Hey, fatty! Think you very big, ah?? Minah a.k.a the 4 footer cili padi shrieks, bouncing up and down like a blood-hungry bulldog. ?Thousand apologies, Your Highness.? I shoot off before she castrated me.
?Think you very funny, ah? Don?t eat the canteen lady, you know!?
I stick out my tongue at her before sprinting away.

As the thud of the kompang fill the air, announcing the arrival of the bride, the deafening chatter surrounding us drops to a whisper. ?Limah?s here already! So fast!? my mother scolds as she adjusts my songkok. ?Relax, mak.? I say coolly while my heart pounds against my ribcage furiously, as if determined to escape. I?m about to look away when I notice a lonely tear slither down mom?s cheek. ?Mak?? A raw sob escapes from her throat and the mole on her cheek quivers. ?Din, don?t forget me, nak. I don?t want to be like Mak Sudin all neglected and-?
?Shhh??I smother her in a bear hug as the waterworks begin. The familiar aroma of pandan fills my nostrils. ?You?ll always be the only woman for me.? She looks up, fragile like a rose petal. ?Promise?? I link my pinky with hers and a smile bursts from her lips.
I sit on the pelamin, squinting against the biting Malaysian sun and suddenly forget to breathe. Laying my eyes on her, I think, she?s stunning. Her tudung cradles her face as she smiles shyly. Gone was the Limah whose hair could nest rats, could belch the alphabet(front and back)
and who used to give me a good wallop, in her pinafore mind you.
A buzz goes through the crowd as the mak ciks judge her with a scrutinizing eye. As she approaches the pelamin, I realize I?m beaming. Meeting her eye, sparks dance before my eyes. ?Hello, bang.?

?Ayah, don?t go!? little Budin clings onto my leg, her hands clasped like hardened cement. For the fortieth time I try to peel off his baby fingers. ?
?I?ll be back, yang.? ?Don?t make promises you can?t keep.?