Salmon Day

ENDINGS / STYLE

note: I am not really sure which exercise this would fall in, but in doing my presentation on Endings, I came across an interesting type of style of narrative where the story is static and the ending depicts the character being in the same position where he was in the starting with nothing changed and nothing different from before. The narrative is only a twist that takes the character nowhere. So I thought this would be an interesting exercise to do although I am not sure which category it should fall into.


Draft 1

The swirl of remorse ribbon solemnly in the air waiting for the right time to greedily lapsed onto another unsuspecting pool of clouds. The weather has been awfully unwelcoming for even the most optimistic tourist. The grey skies and the wet substance that lingers in every breath taken, proposes more than just a depressing shift of monsoon predicament, it was slowly eating into the moods and minds of people.

People like Alex, who hasn’t had a decent boost to his self-esteem for perhaps the longest time. In natural unbecoming like the continuous rain, the emotional steep fall gets worst as the phone goes silent for an awkwardly long period and the pitter-patter of the rain becomes seemingly irritating rather than inspiring like it had always been.

Alex's problem wasn't with his physical appearance which isn't exactly the most important obsession in the list of a late twenty bachelor male living in Kuala Lumpur. His problem wasn't with the inability to get women, which arguably stand perhaps in high ranking on the list of late twenty bachelor male obsessions. He was definitely not having any dysfunctional issues, which men would like to confine to the vicinity of their bedroom and their doctors.

He was, however, facing perhaps the biggest priority that men held in life; his career at stake.

Ten years ago, when Alex first left school, he had the biggest dream of wanting to make it big in his field of interest which many young hopefuls continue to swarm into, probably like a scene of many vultures attacking one single carcass. But of course, in an all typical Malaysian manner, his parents had dutifully sent him to one of those money-sucking machines disguised as an education institution that promised the piece of qualification which will transform Alex, the goofy sneaker-wearing boy, into a business suit empowered professional.

And then, in typical goofy sneaker-wearing boy manner, Alex failed out of his course and dashed his parents dream to have an accountant for a son. In his own realm though, Alex saw and experienced things that his parents would never understand. It began when he picked up an acoustic guitar in primary school, where his music teacher had so willingly given him special attention and classes because Alex was thought to have a natural music talent.

That was the start of the constant request to have Alex play at official school functions; Teacher's Day, Sport's Day, Family Day, Canteen Day and of course, the inaugural Academic Achievement Day. He was the star of all these events where the teachers will never cease to be amazed at what the boy could do and his female schoolmates never stopped gawking at his presence on stage. The irony though, was that Alex never did get any awards on Academic Achievement Day.

As with all guitar playing boys, Alex formed a band when he was at the pinnacle of his high school days, and somehow he decided to play the saxophone instead of the beloved guitar which he had become so famous for. Nevertheless, the instrument took to him immediately and no one really does remember him anymore now for playing the guitar.

After dropping out of college, his infuriated parents sent him out of the house to live independently. It was a scam on his parents’ part who thought that he would soon fail miserably in his musical career and realize how important it was to have a professional qualification to strive through life.

Draft 2: Continuation



At that point in life, Alex thought how wrong his parents were and how misunderstood he felt in this structural society of materialistic chase. He knew he would never return home even if it meant that he had to sleep on the streets or busk for a meager earning.

At this point in his life, however, a cloud very much like the empowering grey ones in the sky has formed around his head. It has been a tough three months for Alex; the entertainment industry has taken a downturn ever since the religious left-wing Opposition Party came into power, abolishing all forms of live entertainment.

Live shows, were Alex’s main source of income all this while, paying off his rent and his dues. It was his pride and his self-esteem ladder as every time he steps on stage with his saxophone, he feels like he owns the world. He feels like he’s taking a chunk at his parents and throwing their doubts away every time he performs on stage.

And now, all that’s running through his head is a salmon day; the occasion where a salmon spends all its strength and time swimming upstream against the current only to be caught by the fisherman at the end of the day. A waste of energy. A waste of time. Alex hated feeling like a salmon.


He looked at his saxophone and the beautiful antique Taylor acoustic guitar, his most prized possessions. His instruments have always been sought after by his fellow musicians because of their rarity in the local market. Bids get higher from time to time in attempts to buy them off Alex but he had never entertained the thought even once before. These were his tools, these represented his livelihood. And yet now, those lucrative offers are running through the back of his mind. All he needed was one phone call to spread the word and he knew cash would be trickling in for him.

He hesitated at the second before his hand could reach his mobile. No, Alex, no! You are not a salmon! The thought of giving up everything now to go back to a steady conventional job and living with his parents made him feel like his efforts for the last ten years meant nothing. And to top it off; that would just meant fulfilling his parents’ prophecies.

But what else could be done to save his career? His rent has backlogged by two months now, and everyday living is pushing him over the edge. He slumped over his shoulder.

A million rational voices sang in his mind. He could always buy his instruments back but then again, who would want to part with such hard-to-find pieces. He could wear it through and travel down south to Singapore for a new opportunity. He could always scurry back to his parents and borrow money to last for a while before the industry picks up again. He could. He could.

He looked at his instruments again. He had to make a decision. His bank balance isn’t getting any bigger. He thought of himself as a salmon, swimming and struggling against the on-flow rush of river stream; squinting his small salmon eyes. An empty stomach and yet trying very hard to avoid the trap of catching the fisherman’s delicious worm bait.

His parents. Like fishermen. Alex, a salmon.

He threw his mobile phone against the cushion and lay down on the soft couch. He kicked off his shoes and decided that nothing was worth giving up his passion for. Closing his eyes, he drifted into a mild slumber dreading the coming of another salmon day.