AAFM - Affinity by Selina

Affinity 

The bustling sounds of laughter and the vibrant colours of myriads products greeted Rose as she paced into the Asian Food Market at China Town. The breeze of cool air from the air condition gently swept past her lustrous hair and surrounded her with the usual sweet aroma.

The cashier, Mary, with strands of white hair glimmering under the florescent light, welcomed her with a big flash of smile like sunshine shining over a flower. “It’s good to see you again!” Mary shouted over the crowd and warmed the cockles of Rose’s heart.  

Rose and Mary had first met each other at a funeral, where Mary was crying mournfully over the death of her beloved husband in an unfortunate car crash. The delicate silhouettes of the weeping willows sway in the icy wind. Mary’s life had shattered into million pieces. This familiar scene awakened the painful past that was deeply buried in Rose’s heart and caused her a pang of sadness as the harsh reality of her loss that simmered below the surface gripped her firmly again. A knot caught her in her throat. Her eyes welled with emotions.

She understood her. They share the same experience.

Since then, they have been supporting each other for ten years through the crossways in life and formed an unbreakable bond, where their thoughts could be easily understood with a single glance, smile, expression.

Rose waved back at Mary with a smile lingering on her face as she reminiscence their memories together, and walked towards the noodles aisle.

There, stood a short chubby woman on the wooden bench, with thick horn-rimmed glasses hanging around her neck, carefully removing the instant noodles from the cardboard box and stacking it on the shelf. It was Emily.

The grey highlights were advancing, making their way deeper into Emily’s thin black hair, yet it wasn’t able to cover the smile that lit up on her face like a wintry sunshine when she saw Rose.   

Emily was an old-aged woman who lived by herself in the outskirts of the city. Rose would often visit her and listen to the stories about her past, her glamour and her advices. She was like Rose’s mother.

Rose greeted her and quickly stacked a few cups of instant noodles for her starving children waiting for her at home.

As she head out of the Asian Food Market, she could hear people’s story echoing behind her, being told at the bustling markets where affinity would continue to grow.  

Author's notes: 

416 words. I have attempted to write a belonging related creative, but somehow it turns out to be too cliched and childish and boring and....

I wish i would just write more sophisticated like you guys...

Anyways, hope you guys will enjoy it! =]

AAFM - The Fatal Noodle by Jennifer

The Fatal Noodle

It bears me great pain to retell this story, a story weaved within the turning point of my life. The ensuing trauma dates back several years, back to a time when my naivety triumphed the complexity of my circumstances ...

To many, the supermarket aisle boasts of its magnificence in its splendid array of food items. Multicoloured packaging lines the shelves with a plethora of products to overwhelm the reluctant consumer.

It was one of those stormy winter nights, the horror echoing in the emptiness of my kitchen cabinet. Braving the gale-like winds, I had ventured the perilous one hundred metres down my suburban street in the heart of the dark, arriving at the asian food market as the clock strikes midnight.

The dark eyed cashier eyes me up and down, as if doubting my sanity at such an unearthly hour, then returns to his preoccupation with the change upon his counter. I scan my eyes hastily across the aisle signs ...

Vegetables ... glutinous rice and flour ... haw flakes and kids snacks ...

AHA! The captivating words Instant Noodles draw me toward aisle 4, my senseless feet drifting towards the imagined scent of chicken and seafood and beef flavourings and preservatives which bestills such immense olfactory pleasure within me that the emotion transcends beyond the written word. The correctly placed capital letters of the two heavenly words spell out IN ... a fatal twist in an attempt to draw me closer into their clandestine corner of the shop.

Upon stepping into the aisle the vivid combinations of colours sing a familiar post-dinner-snack song ... and paralyse me for a moment too long. I immediately head towards the conspicuous hole on the shelf where a cheap bargain has cleared its contents. The location is strikingly familiar ...

The lousily scribbled "Chicken flavoured Kimyu Cup Noodle 10% discount" bestills horror within every hair follicle in my body - the vacuum in the shelf stares at me menacingly, a fatal symbol of hunger throughout the night. This was my flavour. My brand. My cup noodles.

But out of the corner of my eye I spot a soft green ... an all too familiar smell but tinged with  ... with ...

A dark figure emerges beside the green cup discarded carelessly on top of another brand section. Terrified, I watch aghast as the dark figure turns his head, raises his arm ...

A split second is all that is required as I sprint to the other side of the aisle, whisking the green cup into my trained palms in a primitive possessive instinct and landing battle stanced at my original position. I had won the fight, cup in hand with the empty shelf teasing the intruder as he turns away, surrendering to me.

Slamming down my silvery coins which glimmered with victory onto the counter at the front of the supermarket, I boasted of my triumph over the cashier's monotonous "One dollar fifty."

Even the wind whips around me in a celebratory manner as I jog home, my well deserved prize of the night in hand. It was a trophy, a hard-earned token which would accompany me through what would otherwise be a cold, lonely night.

I throw the kettle onto the boil, stripping the plastic packaging off the cup noodle package as I wet my lips, anticipating the enticing gustatory pleasure inside the little cup.

Suddenly the floor opens underneath me, the whirring of the kettle a lethal attack on my burning ears.

In small letters, above the all too familiar CHICKEN FLAVOUR, sat the devastating word CHILLI!!!

Author's Note: 600 words. Sleepy. This was deleted: In a primitive possessive instinct I snatch the green cup noodle from the man's hand, determined not to have used the last five minutes of intense dilemma to no avail.

edit: although not really obvious, I got influenced by Edgar Allen Poe's short stories when I wrote this. I really love his dramatic endings, and I remembered afterwards that it was from his short story The Black Cat where I got inspired with how to start my creative. I actually really enjoyed writing this creative, and actually stayed up in an attempt to finish it off (hence why I was dead today at school). I felt like I could actually just keep typing and I had the 'flow' ...

Originally the persona was going to go to extreme extents in picking the correct cup noodle - they would check the expiry date, immaculate packaging, shaking each cup to see which one had the most 'intact' noodles ... etc but that never happened. It just came out this way haha!

And also, you can probably tell esp. comparing my creatives with Alicia's and Selina's that I'm not really good with description. I tend to prefer movement, and this is what I get deducted marks for at school as well!! I'm too shallow :P

AAFM - M.I.Noodles: Un Homme Fatale by Alicia

M.I.Noodles: Un Homme Fatale

I am a woman, on a mission.

The registers blinked chirpily. Blocky green digits scrolled across the small screen. Slim white lights lined the bleached plastic ceiling. A sharp crisp beam of albicant fell across the store from the sparkling open refrigerator, shelves and shelves of bottles echoing a muffled shade of their contents. Amy readjusted the worn strap of her handbag, running a thumb along the rough tongue, smoothing it along her shoulder. She stepped past the crates of dull green watermelon, swollen from the heat and their own boastful demeanours as they lay in the brown boxes, begging to be bought. Small cardboard placards appeared from shelves. As Amy stepped further into the packed grocery store, sidling past the two old men bickering in the doorway, more signs jumped up at her like signalling, alert meerkats. Strange black squiggles adorned each one, wrapped around a set of bandied seductive digits often ending in 99.

‘Young lady, have a look at this corn. It’s unbelievably sweet and fresh, we get it from the best possible produce.’ She smiled and walked past the shopkeeper who seized the older woman behind her to persuade.

Another man came hurtling from the spice aisle, patting his worked hands on the black apron tied haphazardly around his hips. Amy opened her mouth to apologise for being in the way, a barely audible little breath squeezed out of her lungs as she spoke. The man yabbered quickly at her in some language, little crinkles appearing between his eyebrows and a clearly spoken frown, before dashing to the back of the store.

‘Okay. Noodles.’ I’m here for the noodles, and then I can leave.

That was her Mission Objective; retrieve noodles, run to Phoebe’s and give her the noodles. It was not a difficult task, even faced with the insurmountable task of wandering into an entirely foreign culture.

‘Sorry.’ Amy squirmed as an older woman pushed around her.

***

Ten minutes later, as she zigzagged her way through every aisle, Amy discovered the six foot shelf of instant noodles. There were a lot, a lot a lot. So many different types of noodles!

For a moment, Amy simply stood, awed at the massive collection of noodles. Noodles everywhere! As her jaw hung open to the floor, a gaggle of three girls around her age of sixteen slid gracefully with well-practiced manoeuvres, past the crowds of people rushing in and out of the front entrance like a midnight tide embracing the bright daylight.

Outside, the busy bustle of cars as they dissolved into the night was a reassuring reminder that Amy had not simply dissolved into this parallel universe of ceiling-high noodles and bright fluorescent lights.

The girls left as quickly as they had emerged, passing through the checkpoint and out into the flowing night. Amy jittered, pacing back and forth amongst the stock, wondering which ones she would buy, fluttering anxiously before remembering that Phoebe had written a shopping list as she lay feverish at home.

‘Beef.’ Great, apart from being very unspecific, I can’t read Chinese.

And then she realised that the price tags were written in English as well. Amy bent down to examine the lower shelves, hoping to find a worthy price for all the options. Another twenty minutes flew by as she read every single label, noting at least fifteen different brands offering a variation of a beef flavoured instant noodles.

She sighed, reaching across to seize the first within reach, her fingers brushing over the soft silky touch of the plastic wrapping. When she had successfully stacked five circular cartons into her arms, Amy turned to leave, promptly walking into another customer and dropping all the noodles on the floor.

‘Sorry!’

Amy bent down to pick them all up as they teasingly rolled at a torturously slow but rapid pace along the muddied plastic tiles.

‘No, I'm sorry, here let me help.’ The deep resonating sound of a young man pulled her from her frantic crawl across the floor. The mystery man pulled her to her feet, ‘Here you go.’ Two of the larger noodles bowls had slid into his arms, or had he conjured them with magic? Amy just wasn’t sure what side of the magical portal she was on anymore.

‘Thanks.’

He smiled, a glimmer of amusement appearing in his – surprisingly – blue eyes, and moved past her, the coarse fabric of his sandy trench coat briefly conversing with the fibres of her deep blue summer dress.

Amelia left the store, a bulging plastic bag in one hand and the neatly (obviously pre-prepared) inked phone number of a certain mystery magician on a shard of Paris postcard in the other.

The darkness of the night swallowed her as she strolled away from the entrance of the little Asian grocery, the thick luminescence stretching outwards until its fingers could no longer find her.

The sky was black with anticipation. Stars winked with the sound of wet dripping paint. Amy’s grip tightened on the slippery plastic bag as the warmth of summer enveloped her in a tight loving embrace, full of hope and wonder. 

Author's Note: Originally 838 words upon story's finish. Now, I'm going to rough-edit and see what happens. [post-edit: 852 words] This story started off very serious, I had intentions to make it sad where Amelia was a despondent child from a poor home, but then midway I just decided to turn it into a bit of a half serious crack (humour) piece. And I also had an idea to end with a love story to be a bit cliche in a funny way? But I ran out of time and couldn't see how I could develop their relationship in that short instance of time; it didn't have the right sort of setting or feel to it. I'm sorry I just feel like explaining myself today. The title is a bit of a weird pun I guess, that actually doesn't even fit with my story haha. The M.I.Noodles is obviously Mission Impossible Noodles. ;) Une femme fatale as my readers might know is French for those women who are deadly attractive, and because I randomly added in Mr Mysteriously Magical, I just decided to make him Un Homme Fatale. Selina, please correct me because I'm not sure if it's fatale or fatal. I actually Googled it. :( Yes, the first line is from that song that I don't actually like. (I am a woman, on a mission, woah~ Nothing can stop me, I'm stronger than ever... etc. by Gabriella Cilmi, yes Google.) 

Anyway! Really long Author's Note, the three girls was a reference to the day Selina, Vanessa and I went to buy instant noodles hahaha. I was going to try set a sense of ambience in the opening paragraph, but then I got a little not-bothered. Haha you can practically see the exact moment when I just stop caring about how well I write it. (the ***) Also, the ending is rushed. TIME is not to be wasted, my friends. 

Tl;dr - So, this is my piece for the week! :D Hope you liked it, or at least laughed a bit? Smiled? Inwardly...? 

An Asian Food Market - the stimulus!

Thanks to Alison! :)