An Atypical Typical Asian | Alex Yeoh
Themes
In our spare time together, my partner and I give ourselves an hour to compose a song and write a piece, respectively, in response to a prompt or word or theme of our choice. My partner, Ben, is also a junior doctor, but loves composing in his spare time. He's a master of five instruments (piano, oboe, clarinet, saxophone and cello) and loves coalescing his love for classical music with techno-house elements. For optimal enjoyment and fun, please read the pieces while listening to the associated audio.
Fluorescent green,
Evolving: growing, slowing, growing, slowing.
They try to chase each other in parallel revolutions, as they capture the mind and swim it in spirals.
Dobby's eyes entrance me.
I feel like I'm getting to know Dobby.
He's an indecisive man -
He creeps closer
He pulls away
He's about to say somet-
No, never mind, he changes his mind.
​
His ears are welcoming; despite his minute, unknowing presence, his features bold in comparison.
His big feet, clumsily atop the narrow platform in a futile attempt to portray himself as a man deserving of attention.
​
I change my mind - Dobby's boring.
holding onto his dear book for life, while he continues -
Approaching
Retreating
Approaching
Retreating,
His pathetic pacing leaving me seething.
​
Hedwig! My friend.
Fluorescent yellow, in the dark he glows,
Alluring, menacing, conniving, thrilling!
Hedwig makes for a much better story.
He invites me to Privet Drive...
​
Enticing, Mr Hedwig...
​
I reach for the invite, but it's just out of my grasp.
I lean a little closer, but it's still just a little too far.
​
[next column]
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A shrill noise penetrates my stapes, but fear not, Hedwig, I shall keep pushing through.
​
Oh, to be enraptured in enigma,
to explore the unknown!
​
Sweat beads furiously swivel down my face,
I stick my tongue out to taste them.
​​
Mmm, metallic?
​
I endeavour to get a better look at Privet Drive, but my head refuses to move.
I knock my skull from side to side.
Nada.
I exercise my trapezius to achieve some leeway.
Still nada. ​
​
I stare at Hedwig; this time, he's ignoring me, looking at someone else with those dangerous, threatening eyes.
What have you gotten me into? I demand an answer.
Blood continues to drip down my face,
pooling under my chin, drowning my trust in Hedwig.
​
I thought we were friends, I yell, swatting his traitorous body, as he falls, collapsing lifelessly, onto the cold, cold floor.
​
I see Dobby in the periphery,
Relishing in my demise,
In my bloody defeat,
He's laughing away, his big doe eyes mocking me, as my head sits captive - wedged between volumes of oak and steel.
​
I feel a smile carve onto my face.
It's not over yet, Dobby. You're next.
He’s sporting a hat pointed with a bright red feather, covered in green tunic from head to toe.
Her beautiful doe eyes have me enraptured; my lust knows no bounds as she tosses her luscious long hair.
He’s agile, skirting between the trees, swimming through the grassland; his leggings accentuating his muscles as he somersaults, tumble turns and flies.
Her cute little pout gives me the tingles; oh, that nose, what a perfectly petite nose!
He gives me a little chuckle as he scoops me up in one arm and strategically caresses the foliage, swaying from side to side; he sneaks a little peck on my cheek and I let out a little yelp as he takes me higher, higher and…
Oh, this is heaven! Her pulchritude is indescribable, as I study every crevice and curve of hers closely; the feeling of intoxication overwhelms my senses as she leans into me further.
I’ve never noticed his big, brown eyes and his picture-perfect smile – oh, a care for the world I have not, for I am in love!
“Mum!” “Dad!”
Did you hear that? Did you hear that?
Was that Jane? Was that Peter?
A palpable force draws her closer to his chest.
Warmth, love, safety: he is all of the above to me.
Beauty, elegance, femininity: everything worth dying for.
The echoes of screams fade into the distance as they proclaim their love for one another.
They share in a kiss and embrace each other tightly, as the witch saws their children’s limbs off – slowly, but meticulously.
Their tongues intertwine as Peter and Jane’s cries continue to go unheard, before their heads join the rest of their limbs in the witch’s beloved cauldron.
As mum and dad return to their respective homes, anxious, giddy, excited to share the news of their new soulmate, their lover, their “everything”, their ignorant bliss bleeds into a horrified, piercing wail.
A note is stapled onto their children’s skulls as their skeletons are encircled by black soot.
“Magic exists, but it’s heavily taxed.”