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Saturday, July 17, 2010 @ 8:27 PM

Composition by Cynthia

The morning Sun rays stretched across the horizon, with the birds chirping, all in an attempt to wake the sleeping people up. Dad and I would always beat the birds, however early they tried to wake up. We would always go for a jog along the same forested jogging track, which was filled with rare flowers. Even though I had seen them for almost three years, I was still enchanted by it.
Our jogging patterns were faint thuds on the ground, drowned by the sound of crickets and birds, still trying in vain to wake everyone up. "Roar..." came a ferocious growl. We stopped dead in our tracks. From the look on Dad's petrified face, I knew it mirrored my expression as well. "Wh-what was that?" I stammered. "Don't worry, I am here-" Dad began to assure me, but was interrupted by another growl, much louder than the first. All of a sudden, the forest was silent. The birds were gone, and so were the crickets. The forest was still.
"Patt,patt..."the sound of a large animal slowly approached us. There was only one animal which could make this kind of sound, here in this forest, try as I might not. I glanced anxiously at Dad, but his eyes were focused on something else, to his left. He was stiff as a board. Mustering my courage, I whirled around, and there it was, huge and intimidating, with its ferocious topaz eyes staring intently at Father and I. Its yellow body covered with black stripes, the malicious tiger leaned forward, ready to pounce on me, the weaker of the available prey. Then, it sprang. My throat closed around a scream, and I cowered, ready for the animal to sink its teeth into me. I waited. But it did not come. Only the sound of its snarling was heard. Opening my eyes in amazement, I saw my Father, who had reacted at the very last moment, grabbing a stick and hitting the animal.
Quickly, without thinking, I tore my wide eyes off the duo, and ran. Straight towards the nearest telephone post. My voice was hoarse and shaky as i reported the matter to the police. By the time I hung up, I was already hyperventilating. What would happen to Dad? I gnawed at my lower lip and weighed the possibilities. Would he survive? I was at the nearby park at the time, but could not hear the ferocious roars of the tiger. How could this happen? Why did the tiger appear, here in this neighbourhood? Could it have come from the zoo?
i was comforted by the sirens of police cars echong through the deserted park, not yet filled with people. As soon as the police and the zookeepers arrived, I sped to them and spoke quickly, leading them to the spot. I winded through the forest, followed closely by the policeman and the zookeepers. Within a few minutes, I found it. And there he was. My father, the one who had cared about me so much and protected me when there was danger, lying in a pool of blood, the stick still in his hand. Claw marks had disfigured his once handsome face, distorting his features. Above him was the ravenous tiger.
I shook and my legs turned to jelly. Ripping sounds from my chest came in hysterics, and the tears instantly blinded me. Right now, I wanted to wrestle with the tiger, to stab it, or even shoot it. I wanted revenge. I clenched my fists in uncontrollable rage, shaking so hard that even the trees around me seemed to tremble. It was as if everything went upside down. It was too late. I ignored the zookeepers who immediately used the tranquilizer on it, and the policemen who tried to question me. Black spots began dancing before my eyes, and then I was in the hospital.
The doctors said that my injuries were mild, with only a few scratches and bruises. But I was worried about something else, and my worst fears came true. Father had been pronounced dead. At that instant, my head spun sickeningly, and the whole world seemed to crash on me. How had it started? Why would it happen? My family was there, too, and they cried their hearts out over Dad. At that time, the police officers told me that the tiger had escaped from the zoo at night, and escaped to the neighbourhood. This was it, I thought. Nothing else mattered anymore. The death of a family member was enough for anyone, especially my mother.
We arranged for Father's funeral, and Mother kept saying," Why? Why me? Why my husband? What have I done wrong? God, have mercy!" Everyone cried and sobbed, even those who did not know Father. It was too much for me. Father was gone, leaving only my mother, my grandparents and me. Nothing would ever be the same again.
Nothing.