Brief1_Re-Write_By YUNA LEE

It's a re-write of 'Haroun and the Sea of Stories' by S. Rushdie.
It's totally different from my proposal that I submitted. I'm sorry but had to change it.

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‘Tick… Tick… Tick…’
A clock was ticking – it was loud enough to fill the house and break quietness in the house.
A lady on a dining table in a kitchen looked at the clock on the wall, then a pile of stinky dishes in a kitchen sink. But, soon after, she turned her head back where it was. There was a steam rising from a cup of hot tea in front of her. She raised her hand, put it over the steam to grab it and opened her hand to see whether there was any steam she caught. She grinned at it when she realized there was no steam but only dampness left. Then, she slowly sipped a tea.
That was all which moved and sounded. And it was nice, warm, and quiet.

But it always interrupted by neighbors: Roxanna was out in her garden, tied her hair back with a ribbon, and was stretching her legs to join a walking group; girls in fancy clothes – bright colors, short and small fits – were giggling at the bus stop with books on their hands; Autena, who got a new perm and dyed hair, was reversing her car to go to work.
She stood up and walked towards the kitchen window – not to say hello to them but to do the dishes. She just washed up dishes and mugs and put it back on the shelf. She zipped her lips tightly, did not even made a humming sound – was that because there was no one to talk to or did she lose her voice?

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When she was preparing a dinner, the phone rang.
“Hello.”
“Hi honey. Get dressed – I’ll be there in 30 minutes. You need to accompany me to a dinner with publisher tonight. Ok? I’ll see you then. Love you!”
“But… dear, hello? Hello?”
About 30 minutes later, “Honey I’m home. Are you ready? Parsa, you too. I’ll drop you off at your uncle’s home.”
“Dear he told me he wanted to go to his friend’s home to stay overnight.”
“Don’t worry – I’ll talk to him. I don’t want him to stay outside till late. You look nice. I’m sorry for the late call – I’m sure you understand it. The work is always like this. Anyway where is your headscarf? That ruby-red headscarf looked good on you, my dear.”
“I… ok. Just a minute.”

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After the dinner, she felt tired so leaned her head backward and closed eyes.
“The food was nice, huh? Let’s take Parsa next time. (He looked at her closing her eyes.) You were bored, weren’t you? It’s lucky that you don’t know about the business. It’s always complicated – more than just a story”
“No, I had fun. I just feel a bit tired – that’s all.”
She did not like food – actually the smell, a strong smell of herb. But she did not mention it to him.
“I know what you mean… I understand.”

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One day, everyone was at home – her husband was working on his new book in a study room, her son was watching a TV in living room and she was making a fruit and vege juice.
“Here”
“Thanks mum.”
She did not look good – was slightly coughing with wheeze, but Parsa did not notice it.
“Have some honey.”
“Thanks, my dear. (She coughed.) Did you catch a cold? Go and see the doctor before it gets worse.”
“Na. I’m almost recovered now. Asthma makes me sound like it when I breathe.”
He noticed that she was unwell but did not know she had a nasty cough for the last few days.
“I’m sorry honey. The doctor must have got a good medicine for you to get better soon like this. Go and get some rest. I’ll go out and get some take-away for dinner.”
“That’s ok. I feel much better now – I’m fine.”
“No more words. I’ll organize the dinner, so leave it on to me and go to bed. I’ll be with you in a minute.”
He did as he said – he got a combo of hamburgers. Parsa came to her and gave a kiss on her cheek before he went to the bed.
They both loved to hear her singing – but it looks like they do not realize that she has been stopped singing – even herself.

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Her husband is a nice, gentle, and intelligent man.
He writes books – he is a famous book writer - and quite often invited to deliver a speech at the national convention or to give the after-dinner speech.
When he works on his book, the house has to be quiet – because he is becoming very sensitive and nervous. And she needs check him up regularly whether he needs anything to drink or eat – it can be a day or a night.
When he is not, he talks to her all the time. There is nothing that he hides from her – tells her everything and share everything he knows or thinks with her. But sometimes, just sometimes, she stares blankly into space, not knowing what he is saying.

One night, they had a cup of tea on deck. “My story is about……. (He is talking about his book and, then, realizes that she is not concentrating.) Hey, are you listening? Honey? (She recovers her consciousness and makes an eye-contact with him.) Well anyway it’s …. (He keeps talking.)”

She loves his kindness; his creative imaginations; and his job. She feels safe in his boundary and he is funny enough to entertain her and to fulfill her life with happiness. He is very mature for his age and knows everything – so there is nothing she needs to do or know particularly. She just needs to be a mum and a wife in this family – in this house.

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Tick… Tick… Tick…’
A clock was ticking and it was loud as usual.
She was sipping her tea on the dining table and staring at a steam rising from a cup.
But when she looked at the window, mails on a mailbox got caught her eyes.
She got up and walked towards the door, not to those stinky dishes in a sink.
She grabbed her headscarf and put it on the chair.
Trees and flowers’ sweet smells tickled her nose and her hair gently waved in a spring breeze –a light and pleasant wind cooled her face. And the sunshine warmed her body immediately. She closed her eyes and had a deep breathe.
When she was approaching to a mailbox, she could hear what girls at the bus stop was giggling about – it was about boys and an on-coming party on Saturday; Roxanna in a pair of trousers gave a big wave to her to say hello; and Autena stopped her car to work to have a short chat with her and asked her to come over to her place for a cup of tea later.
She came back home and sat on the dining table – had a last sip of a tea in a cup. She might not recognize this but she was smiling.

She stretched her arms to push the doorbell but the door was open then - Autena’s husband came out.
“Oh hi – how are you? I heard you’re coming from Autena. Autena honey, your friend is here! (He looked at her again.) Have a nice time then. And say hello to Navid for me.”
“Honey, don’t forget to get a milk and a bread later,” Autena shouted from the inside and her husband replied back.
“Yeap,” then he left.
“Bye” she said to him and went to inside of the house.
She had a coffee and I had a cup of tea with freshly baked cookies and muffins.
She talked about ‘her’ holiday plan- a trip to Germany and England where her younger sister lives. Her perm and dyed long hair fell loosely to her chest and a diamond necklace was sparkling. She lit a cigarette and a cigarette smoke blurred the boundary between her and me.

‘Who am I? What’s my name? Naia yes – but why there is no one call me, Naia - my name. When will I be free? After Parsa graduate the University or when he gets married or after my husband retires or… Hang on, should I keep listen to him – listen to his stories? Where am I anyway?’
She felt dizziness – so lied on a table and nestled her face against her arms.

“You won’t believe who I met today at the pub. After work… oh before saying it, I’ve decide the end of my story dear. It’s gonna be…”
He started talking again as soon as he got home after the work. His moth-engine was turned on as he opened the door
“Honey, can I stop you for a moment? I’ve got something to tell you.”
“What... Why? I mean… what is it, honey. What’s wrong?”
Now he looked at me – found where I stood and what I was doing.
“I need a holiday.”
“Pardon?”
“I need a holiday - like you and Parsa; like everybody. I’ve been sacrificed myself for you, family and this house. And I’ll be – I have to be for another what 10, 20years. I can’t go on like this. I don’t want to.”
He interrupted her. “Honey. Sweetheart. I understand. Of course you must get tired of this. It’s the most tough job in the world… you know to be a mum and a wife. And you know that we all respect that. What can we do without you? Honey you’ll feel better if you go for a shopping tomorrow. I’ll take you – let’s get some new headscarves and…”
“No, you don’t understand me. My name is Naia and I know what I want. There is no Naia in my life anymore. Everyone has their own work to do, but not me. Everyone is living their life, but not me. You are just like a talking-bird – it doesn’t matter what I’ve been doing during the day or what I’m saying to you. I can’t even remember whether I opened my mouth and split the words out at least once a day or not.”
“Ok, stop. Let me think…”
“No. you don’t get it. I want to work too – get paid for my labor. I want to learn something – anything. I want to enjoy the life… I want my mouth to speak and to sing.”
“I guess my stories blurred the distinction between reality and fantasy to you. It is how ordinary woman should be - it’s what you do for a living. Why you need to be educated or work? I work and my salary support this family financially so you don’t need to. And what you do is the housework – then what the education is for? However it’s not worth it to start it now – you’re old; you’re a mother of teenager who will be an adult soon. And …”
He kept talking and she went to blank again.

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Tick… Tick… Tick…’
A clock was ticking loudly in a kitchen – in a house. A pile of stinky dishes was sitting in a sink.
But there was no one at home – no Naia on the dining table with her favorite tea.
When she got to the airport, there was Kyran, a neighbor. They recognized faces each other but did not talk. Because she knows that he does not like her husband – she thought that must be because of his talkative wife.
They got on the same flight to the same place and sat beside each other in a plane – it all happened by accident.
“So… Philippine? Huh?”
“Yes…”
“Have you…”
“No. it’s the first time.”
“Ah…I see.”
They both bended down their hand and looked at their hands – her fingers were making a ring and his fingers rolling a pencil.
“I thought you always wear headscarf on your head.”
She put her hand on a top of her head and said, “oh well…”
“ No no. I’m just saying it. You’ve got a nice brown hair – looks nice.”
She combed her hair with her fingers and they smiled at each other.

She got a small studio in downtown, Manila. She traveled for the first few days – there were no difficulties as many people could speak English. She studied Filipino at the school during the day and worked at the music store at night – where she can listen to all sort of music.
She started to sing and humming again.
Once a week, she went to learn a computer at the community centre. After the class, she was hanging out with classmates to a karaoke or a pub. There were many housewives in a class: they all have their jobs; they spend their salaries for their own shopping; husbands do the housework; and nannies look after their children.
They were like a symbol of the freedom to her – what she dreamed about. And she became one of them. Except when she woke up in the middle of night and looked for Parsa, “He was here – call my name.” And except when she missed that a gentle breeze and a warm sunshine. And except when she felt too quietness in a room and realize there was no one who talked to her.
Few months later, she found his husband new book in a bookshop.
“Is it? How weird is it? It’s not the one that he worked – I never seen this one before.”
But she was sure that was his book. So she took it to the counter and paid for it.

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Naia was sitting on a plane to back home. She closed her eyes, leaned her head back, listened music and was humming.
Her husband’s new book was on her leg – she held it with her hands and tapping with her fingers as the music flew.

She could find the key easily. When she opened the door, everything was there as they were. The clock was ticking – very loudly and her headscarf was on the chair.
She made a cup of tea and sat on the dining table.
‘Tick… Tick… Tick…’
When she looked at the kitchen sink, she smiled. It was not because a pile of stinky dishes was gone. She smiled because she saw Parsa and her husband were running at home with a big smile on their faces. She raised her hands and gave a big wave – to tell she is here at home.

The book was about a woman who is beautiful, smart and generous. Her family love her so much but they have forgotten to show it to her - did not know how to express love towards her, respect for her, and appreciations for all sacrifices she makes. So that woman ran away from the family. Even thought, the family was not angry at her, did not bitterly resent her act or hated her for this. But they showed penitence for their mistakes and missed her; wanted her to come back home – where she belonged, where she needed, and where she wanted to be the most.
In the end, that woman came back home and they all lived happily ever after.

And just for a tip, in a story, the key was under the entrance mat. That is where Naia found her key.