As each second passed, the wooden clockwork made soft tapping sounds to indicate the movement of time by seconds.
The room smelt of burnt cigarettes and thin wispy smoke can be seen going up in the air as a lone man sits on his chair, slowly inhaling the intoxicating fumes of death.
His eyes closed as each time he took in the smoke, and for a few seconds he let the smoke linger in his mouth and throat and then suddenly, like an angry dragon, he lets out a gush of smoke spewing from his mouth and nose.
Sometimes, he plays with the smoke. He inhales them, lets them linger for a bit and then like a carp, he opens his mouth to slowly let the smoke out. The smoke takes it’s own sweet time to make it’s way out from his mouth as he remained breathless. But he doesn’t mind being breathless. He enjoys seeing the smoke slowly thinning up into the air and then disappearing completely.
Like God, he creates shapes of different sizes from the smoke and most of the time he fails.
The cigarette bud nears it’s death. Just one more puff and it’ll all be over for this one.
He looks at the bud for a few seconds, probably feeling sorry for it, or it could also be because he feels remorseful for smoking. But most of the time he thinks to himself, “How can such a beautiful thing end so fast?”. He takes his last puff and throws the bud to the floor.
The bud drops onto the floor silently, and silently the rug catches fire.
The fire spreads outward following the trail of petrol, eating away everything that’s in it’s way.
It devours, leaving nothing but black ash and spreading it’s heat and agony of warmth to everything.
The man is still in his chair. He makes no effort whatsoever to put off the fire. The crackling of the fire silences to the soft tapping of the old clockwork. The man closes his eyes, his hands on the armchair’s rest and like a sleep deprived person, he embraces death. The fire embraces him and they unite forever.
SEREMBAN: Renowned writer and film director Ribhkus passed away in a fire accident at his residence at 3.45 yesterday morning. Ribhkus who’s well known to be the only Malaysian to receive a Pulitzer Prize for his writings and the only writer to transform his novels into award winning movies held his last press conference at his film studio a day ago.
When asked what were his thoughts on life, this is what the 43 year old Malaysian icon had to say, “Life. Life is like a cigarette bud. Full of nicotine, and chemicals and tar and all that but when you smoke it, it’s good. Feels good. But too much of it is bad for your health.”
Ribhkus’s death is ruled as an accident. But there are still many parties out there who believe that he committed suicide. One teary eyed fan went a step ahead declaring it could be homicide. “I think it’s a homicide. He was famous! He can’t kill himself. Someone must have killed him.”
Millions around the globe are mourning the death of Ribhkus as shockwaves over his death spread around the world.
Sukhbir who’s a Nobel Peace Prize winner, an Oscar recipient, a Grammy holder and a recipient of the Pulitzer Prize would be cremated at Port Dickson according to his wish tomorrow morning.
Malaysia, nay, the world loses yet another prolific icon in the entertainment and arts industry.