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Trumpeteer At World's End
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Darwina. Hartamas residential park. ‘Tits’. Mineral water. Baju kurung. School buses. 1500 hrs meeting. That left turn to MITI.

“Feelings are chemical”

“It’s beyond our (two people) control”

Tulis. Tulis. Tulis.

Sometimes we both agree that the answer to life is 42.

Darwina is scared of dying. But bold enough to tell me why.

We have another one lost soul, lingers around Solaris or some shitty bar somewhere, drinking till the last drop.

We have passed ‘The Weekenders: The Vampire, The Rich Kid, The Depressed Girl, and The Stoner’ chapter.

It has been a year.

Darwina and I, and the week days.

6191.

I’m one of the horses.

Old story about a plant that turned everyone crazy, now isn’t gonna make us laugh.

Theories; right and wrong ones. We hold so dear, believing them only if we’re together. Times in another, we are frightened by them.

Mom, dad, mama, papa, sisters.

New painted walls in Darwina’s apartment.

Her petting zoo.

My CDs are now all over the place.

We don’t care about songs now.

Radiohead’s No Surprises; Darwina’s funeral song.

Mine, Jimmy Eat World’s Hear You Me.

Thank you. I love the necklace.

Darwina’s long hours wait.

“Sampai bila?”

“Kejar bahagia”

Happiness in topics. I reserved my comments in most of the time.

Darwina’s theories on marriage.

My funny speculation on Judaism and Christianity.

A captain and Saving Private Darwina.

Are we losing faith in one another?

I’m writing a book in my mind.

This chapter still feels like an introductory. If it ends, what will happen to the rest of the book?

To find a person that inspires...and hilarious and unintentionally destructing you...

...is got to be a search of a lifetime. I’m not sure I wanna go through a quest, again. Leave it to Hans Solo.

Best of friends? Worst of friends? Two worst of friends turned best friends.

In the month of April? Or could be May? June perhaps?

Playground.

An empty house after an open field.

1 to 2 to 3 to 4 to 3 to 2

Monsters and ghosts. Voices and noises. Dreams and sleeping with a smile carved on Darwina’s lips.

I drove, and drove, and drove. She refused to most of the time.

Darwina drove to the shop for bread, one day. To feed me.

Change of moods. Change of promises. Change of judgment. Change of perception. Change of friends, who have resented us. We have not changed.

My favourite chapter, so far. Though it’s unfinished.

Most exclusive and personal and true.

Darwina should come up with a title for it.

 

Tear up the pages if you wanna.

I’d still have my copy

Previous short story:
Trumpeteer At World's End
Next short story:
For World Peace : An Anecdote
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about the writer

Nina Chezter Sarif

A person, with nothing much to say, except to write
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