He took a glimpse over the back of his shoulders while washing off the blood and dirt stains off his hands. He was supposed to be anxious but surprisingly he’s not. The clear stream became murky as he scrubbed his hands in the water. He was the only person there, squatting by the stream. The water was cold as midnight approached.

The blood was not his. No. Never would he spill his own blood over things like these. No, never. There’s no honour in spilling his own blood he thought. The blood was of the poisonous Nazrul.

After washing his hands he walked up the ascending, grassy clearings by the stream. His hands still showed traces of blood and dirt especially underneath his fingernails. He seemed to know his way in the darkness of the night. The moon wasn’t shining that bright because of the thick night clouds occasionally covering it. There was silence, no sounds of creaking crickets and not even any slight gust of faint wind. As the green clearings became level, he stopped at a spot with no grass beside a huge rain tree, pokok pukul lima. Apart from the tree, there was only a slight hump of fresh, moist, red earth on the grassless ground. It was a grave, obviously a recently made grave.

He grabbed a folded steel chair from its resting place by the tree trunk. There were also a hoe and an axe somewhere under the tree in the darkness. He unfolded the chair, placed it beside the grave and sat on it.

For a few minutes he was sitting silently, adding to the ghostly silence of the eerie place. He didn’t move. It was when the sky cleared and the moon showed its beam that he began to talk. But no one was there to listen.

“Nazrul was dangerous to us!”

“His mouth was poisonous!” “His mouth was poisonous!”

“Every words coming out of his mouth, darkens the hearts of whoever listening!”

“Every sentence he said turned people into evil!”

“Yes, I brought him to this place!”

“Yes, I knocked him unconscious at the back of his head with the hoe!”

“And yes, I chopped his limbs off with the axe!”

“Now he’s dead. Now he’s dead. He’s underground, unable to speak again!”

“His mouth was poisonous!” “His mouth was poisonous!”

“Now he’s unable to speak again!”

The scene was like Smeagol talking to his alter ego, Gollum in the Lord of the Rings. With the grin and the facial expression, he suddenly burst into a forced laughter, unable to actually feel the triumph of his recent feat.

He eventually stopped laughing but the grin was still on his face. His grin and his eyes were those of evil and darkness.


“Bang!”, somebody suddenly banged the top of his office cubicle table. He was startled and came back to his senses.

“Hoi! You’ve been daydreaming eh?!”

“Where’s the Incident Report I told you to do? It should’ve been on my desk 10 minutes ago!”

“And why is it I see there’s less service tickets assigned to you compared to others this month?!”

“Also why is it I see there’s less emails from you compared to others?!”

“Are you doing your job or not?!”

“You want me to report you to the big boss? Remember the Incident Report, A.S.A.P or else!”

That person then walked away. Half of the office floor heard what has been said, including the bang on the table.

“Ohhhhh… Nazrul is still alive!” “Nazrul is still alive!”

“His mouth is poisonous!” “His mouth is poisonous!”


In the trunk of his car, there was a folded steel chair, a hoe and an axe. It was already 6:05PM and Nazrul was in the distance, walking towards him.