Singapore Short Story

Singapore Short Story

Singapore Short Story

1989

Lee Lik Kong sits in the little home in Pasir Ris. The seventy year old man is severely stricken with illness. His shirt removed to relieve the heat, tattoos are seen throughout his upper body. He lies on his wooden bed, peacefully and silently. He turns his head to his little dressing table, smiles, and sleeps to eternity. Days later, his body is found in his flat by police, and cremated. But no traces of family could be found. Gone is the man, and the secrets he held.

1943

Sirens blare, and bullets spray sporadically through the air like a virus. War is here. The British have fallen to the Japanese. They did not fulfill their promises to protect Singapore. Inside a decrepit coffeeshop, three men sit around. Three Hokkien gangsters scoff at the Japanese. They hate the war. Invasion is the most humiliating thing that can ever happen to a nation. These gangsters may be real monsters, but they’re also real men. With grim faces, they perform a ritual and set off in different directions.

Even until the evening at 6pm the fire is still going. The street on Chinatown is littered with dead bodies and soldiers do whatever they can to kill the enemy. Hardly anyone in the buildings dare to go out on the streets, and nobody who goes out gets back alive. As three men with courage like steel step up to the battle the face of the game changes a little.

All of a sudden, Japanese soldiers started falling more rapidly. The three valiant men with a gang of men attack the enemy crazily that the Japanese were taken by surprise. However, the enemy also returned blow for blow. But it was fine. The men had achieved their goal of wiping the Japanese in Chinatown. As they say, the spirit is stronger than the flesh but the flesh always prevails. These men also fell to the ground slowly but surely. As the three leaders retreat as quickly as possible, they try to use whatever ammunitions they have left to kill the Japanese. But they also sustain gunshots. Just as Lee Lik Kong was dashing for cover, three shots were fired. Kong crashed to the ground; but he didn’t realize that none of the shots hit him. In front of him was Tan Siong Seng; his compatriot and best friend, together with Kim Seng. The three of them were inseparable. Perhaps excluding death. Tan Siong Seng had dived in front of Kong and Kim Seng had tried to duck, but both of them had gotten shot. Two of the shots hit Siong Seng and the other hit Kim Seng. Both of them crashed to the ground, reaching the end of the road. Lik Kong grabbed both of them and drew them close.

“Kong……I’m going soon,”*Coughs blood*, “I’m sorry I cannot be with you anymore. I need you to get out of here-“ and Siong Seng gave up the ghost. Just before he died he showed me a little transmitter. And next was Kim Seng.

“Brother… you still got life in you. I have to go too…”

Kong wanted to ask him to stop talking, but was stopped by a raised hand from Kim Seng, who did not want to delay the inevitable.

Kong asked, “How do I ever repay you and brother for all you’ve ever done?” Tears streamed like a flowing river down Kong’s cheeks.

“Live your life…to the greatest…you must…always…choose death before dishonor.”

And Kim Seng went.

Kong wiped his cheeks. These two had been the best people he had ever met. They had things in common- the Japanese had exterminated their families and they were alone. They pledged full loyalty to the nation. But-wait a minute-what was that thing Siong Seng said; to get out using the transmitter. He called the British Army.

“Army, this is Kong. Two dead, Kim Seng and Siong Seng. The Japanese have been nearly wiped out. But we have no ammunition left.” Kong mustered enough breath to say it. That moment, he felt truly proud to have served his country. He was a true blue Singaporean.

The British Government praised the three men. They sent men to pick Kong up and also to clear the rest of the Japanese. That day proved a victory for the British. Both Kim Seng and Siong Seng received posthumous acknowledgement awards. Lik Kong received monetary awards and a plague for the service to the British Army.

Post-war

Decades after the war, Lik Kong got a flat of his own. In reminiscence of his dear wife he made a beautiful dressing table in his bedroom. Every year he visited and cleaned the tablets of his dear friends. He never forgot death before dishonor. In his heart, he always was, and will be a Hokkien gangster who will bully and terrorise whoever threatens Singapore. He is Kong. As he thought of all these, he breathed his last. Somewhere far away, the trio sat together in a coffeeshop once again, faces full of smiles.