The Child-Devourer

She stood at the corner of the restaurant. Her bright red skirt attracted my attention but it was more of her furtive glances at diners that piqued my curiosity. I thought she was part of the restaurant staff, since they were all in black but her red skirt was too out of place. Also, she seemed to be watching the little kids running around with an eagerness that belied any good intentions. I wondered why she was standing there, occasionally sitting down but mostly standing in her corner watching everyone with a slight smile.

Her belly was huge, in fact, she was grossly overweight. Could she be the floor manager but she moved too little to be considered one. What was she doing there? Perhaps she was a child-devourer, one that savored delicate flesh, the sweet smell of talcum powder and bones that crunched under one's bite. Like how one would enjoy the sweet flavors of an ortolan.

She moved along the fringes of the dining room, rarely approaching the adults but seemed to have a desire to reach out to the children. I ate my brunch, a simple plate of eggs benedict, and wondered how she would cook the little ones; stewed, fried or raw. It was an impossible task to stop staring at her bloated face and figure. Keen to return to the rest of my meal, I decided to stop staring and concentrate on the food in front of me.

A woman and her two children were seated next to my table. I had thought that the girls were her nieces because they communicated on such friendly terms. When the woman ordered a glass of wine, her charges exclaimed loudly that she could not get drunk, if not how would anyone get home? Ah, signs of alcoholism pervaded one's upbringing. I suspected that the girls would grow up to find such early morning imbibing to be normal behavior.

Nearing the end of their meal, the young ones had grown weary of the cupcakes sitting in front of them. The mother managed to catch some respite, slowly sipping her cabernet sauvignon and reading a romance novel. Her peace did not last long when the youngest ran back exclaiming loudly about something. I looked up to see the child-devourer holding onto the wiry arms of a caucasian boy, no doubt examining her lunch, smiling. She sat the boy down while the rest of the children in the vicinity surrounded them excitedly.

From her bag, she took out her tools. A metal box slightly larger than a novel and a wooden case. What were their parents thinking, letting a stranger touch their children? And then she whipped out a piece of foam and dabbed the caucasian boy's face with paint.

A face painter hired by the restaurant to entertain children while their parents used the opportunity to unwind on a Sunday afternoon. I should have known.

End of the Road

Sad to say but I believe I have reached the end of the road when my projected timeline and savings seem to disagree with each other. Have yet to find a viable way to make ends meet and perhaps it is time for me to bid adieu to this dream. One where I went in with wishful thinking and leaving with lots of lessons learnt. Most importantly, I have learnt a whole lot more about myself, losing that arrogant swagger and gaining humbleness (more like getting beaten into submission).

Nevertheless, the past nine months have been a journey, perhaps I was too optimistic about my capabilities and now, I have to look ahead and see which doors are open.

Another Round

End of another in camp training. After 6 years I'm definitely more comfortable with my roles and responsibilities. Each time it's a test of my leadership capabilities and I think I did my best time round. There were many issues that led to a depletion of my specs and men's morale but they saw with their own eyes how higher command treats me when I tried to voice out something to protect them. To higher command they may think that I'm naive but to me, if I do not fight for them, who would? I gained more respect and everyone knows I'm on their side. I know I did the right thing and will stand by my actions, disregarding the negative actions by other people. Last night, on our last beer session, I could sense how everyone would stand by me, all the way down to the men and I'm heartened. Nevertheless, I have more room for improvement and will do what I believe is right.

Streaming

Bowls of consciousness.

Talking birds. Ladders, moving. Bright colors.

Holding onto you tightly. Never wanting to let you go.

Pain. Spasms. Blackness.

Roundabouts. Trying to find solace in the Holy word.

Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe. Maybe not.

Don't know when it would all end. Why?

Self-doubt. Self-doubt. And then bad decisions.

Handling greed and fear.

Mostly fear.

Wishing for a clearer path.

I'm still thankful, no less.