Foreshadowing

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Kyungsoo’s pale, stubby fingers found their way into a bowl of water. Lightly moistening his touch; His fingers automatically tended towards the blob of brown mud – known as chocolate – found on his little wooden chopping board. Mixing, swerving, ducking in and out – he’s little, agile fingers subconsciously move on their own accord. It was his first time in the kitchen – at the age of four. Yet he belittled his thoughts – cooking didn’t seem that hard.

Swiftly crawling off the seat, his little toddler legs waddled to and fro – finally meeting the base of the stool for support. He took a breath. Such legs couldn’t carry him far, but he was determined to finish whatever mess he begun. Push. Push. His repetitive thoughts gave him some courage and reassurance. A smile finally, forming on his face, when he finally curved the seat from its initial position, to the other side of the wide kitchen bench.

Another breath was needed. At such a height he couldn’t see anything – his memory the only aid to help him recorrect his new stool position. This was it. One step, the little metal bar at the bottom of the stool provided him just enough lift, to swiftly carry himself back onto the stool. Finally facing the back of the blob, his arms immediately launched towards the chocolate – continuing his unfinished work. More water, the heat in his hands was slowly melting the chocolate. He didn’t want that. Or at least he thought he didn’t. It was his cooking senses kicking in – the age of four seemed absurd – but little did his parents know; a little prodigy was in their grasp.

His fingers continuingly applied pressure – the cylindrical base finally appearing. This chocolate – whatever his little head had in mind, was finally on the road. Swerve, cut, pressure, and break – he silently continued his skilful work. Such a project needed concentration – it wasn’t as if he knew what it was – but such aromas, such textures bubbled a newfound excitement within him. Finally satisfied, he hopped off the stool. Looking for the dreaded tool in which a mother would never give her four year old child – a knife. Top cupboard – his memory had never failed him before. And like wise, flashing black and white memories of his mom taking out a sharp, silver object from the top cupboard gave him ideas which will scale the perfection of his new dish by tenfold.

After minutes of scrambling around, strong rope and duct tape. The top cupboard obediently flung open – the hidden metal utensils, now an arm’s width away. Kyungsoo immediately found what he was looking for – it was small, light and a perfect match – his little hands required the strength of two palms to withhold it, but it was perfect nonetheless. Sharp too.

If I cut it like this, little squares should pop out. His little mind wondered – his little masterpiece halfway from completion. At least now, the chocolate chunk was decipherable, it was realistic. The detail and effort his little hands managed to withstand was incredible – but he was too young to admire his work.

Hrm… More squares.

1, 2, 3, 4… He giggled along, happily poking out the shapes, once the knife had indented it. Little windows were officially formed. Perfect – he mused again, his eyes hopefully scanning around the room. Bingo! His contagious giggle continued, while his little legs outstretched from the bottom of the stool – waiting patiently to finally touch the floor. His arms his only support, yet it didn’t bother him. This was fun. Little baby squeaks from his light steps, quickly sounded after, before the silent open and closing of some more cupboard doors reverberated through his little ears. A light sigh escaping his lips – no one was awake.

Mix, add, stir, mix – his stubby little finger was dipped into the bowl before his tongue hungrily slurped the finger clean. Yuck! His forehead creased while his eyebrows scrunched up in disgust. He had always seen his mother do this. Yet, even now, he never understood why. Shrugging, he assumed it was finished before he displaced the mixture into a metal container. It’s odd shape – constricting and refocusing the movement of the free-flowing mixture. Done. Moving the mould to the side – the small bobs of his little heads could be seen behind the kitchen desk. The refrigerator opening and closing; before a new ingredient was within the firm grasp of his little hands. Icing sugar – the black and white label on the small tubes.

His right hand applied pressure to the small containers, while a free hand, was cleverly used as a guide towards his hardened chocolate masterpiece, from before. The cold, sugary treat obediently oozing out from its socket – while he used the typical butter knife to evenly disperse the new wonders – Its colours, a beautiful addition to his model. He wasn’t only a chef prodigy – his art abilities weren’t rusty either.

dry from its previous holdings, the empty tubes of icing sugar was thrown into the bin. A second glance not even bothered to be spared, while his little feet got off the seat for the last time.

Add this onto this. Colour this, write this, taste this... And Wallah! – Finished. Proud, he cutely shook his body from side to side, shyly, the soft footsteps of another, awakening person had rung throughout the mansion.

“Kyungsoo-ah…” the overuse of aegyo from a twenty year old female was amusing to him. A smirk/ smile still proudly worn as hands swiftly carried him off the seat.

“Aunty-nanny look!” his fingers directed towards a cake on the kitchen table. “Ughh…” she softly hushed him, wiping off the sweat and flour stained onto his pale little face. Wait. Sweat and flour? Her eyes finally found their way onto the kitchen table – the sight a nightmare.

“Oh MY-“ Kyungsoo’s hands found their way to her lips – he knew what words were going to be ushered next – but his mummy told him that he should never hear those words.

“They are going to ki-“again, his fingers quickly pressured against her lips. His head shaking from side to side, while he’s eyes were firmly shut. He’s little act unnecessary, but it was a habit. He’s mum would always do those actions whenever something he shouldn’t hear was sounded nearby, so he only re-enacted her actions.

“I wasn’t going to say anything bad-”

“Mummy says not to say that k-word. It’s a bad word” he lightly reprimanded. The older female finally giving in, that disastrous-expression never removed off her face. A tattoo was probably easier to remove…

“I’m so de-. Okay I won’t say it” she lightly smiled at the four year old child – who had more mannerisms and courtesy stocked up into his little body, then she would ever have in a lifetime. “Kyungsoo what did you – MY G- IS THAT A KNIFE?” the young male flinched in her arms. Protective they were – but frightful; especially when he was up close to her lips. Her yells seemed largely scaled - a microphone deemed unnecessary, because her voice projection seemed capable for its menial job…

It took a while. The fright and panic kicked in. The kitchen spotless within an hour before the nanny collapsed onto the couch – her body sprawled until what she understood as ‘comfortable’ was finally achieved.

“But aunty-nanny look!” his voice a saddened plea. She seemed completely oblivious to the cake he had made on the bench. He had eaten a couple of cakes before – his mother disagreeing for health purposes, but his father always talked her out of it. So he was pretty sure that whatever he had made – it was at least known as ‘cake’.

Finally she looked up. Her ears perked up, catching his soft sad tone of voice – before she finally agreed to find out what the ruckus was. And boy, Kyungsoo was right. It was worth a ruckus. There was a freaking masterpiece of a cake lightly displaced on the kitchen bench. The clever and skilful carving of a plane atop a tranquil body of shimmering, blue ocean; sent tingles to her tongue. salivating.

“Yah~ When was such a cake sent here…” she walked over to the stool, next to Kyungsoo – eyeing the masterpiece more closely now.

“I made it…” he timidly mumbled – an incoherent garble of words; in the nanny’s ear.

“What? Kyungsoo? I couldn’t hear you…”

“I made it…” If only he had photographic memory – the expression the nanny currently donned was unforgettable.

Ten minutes. Twenty minutes. A flock of birds flew past – the soft calls lulling Kyungsoo into thoughts while he managed to completely ignore the female before him. She went hysterical after that. Questioning him about this, about that – then lectures about cooking. His little four year old brain could not withstand such a long, boring conversation. So he ignored her.

“Yah! Kyungsoo are you ignoring me?” he gulped. His vocabulary for a four year old, superior – but nowadays, every young child seemed capable of fluently using complex words. He shook his head from side to side.

“Then answer me. Why did you make the plane crash?” She still doubted the whole situation before her. A delivery man must’ve placed the cake on the bench – opened and unboxed – which made no sense in her mind. But it was still more realistic than mistakening the situation and listening to Kyungsoo. But he was a sincere child – honest and truthful. So she had to ask.

He shrugged. Convincing – she pondered with sarcasm – yet his look never faltered. She was lost in thoughts now – the sincerity in Kyungsoo’s eyes, undoubtedly, genuine.

“Then why is the word ‘Jet Xpress’ written on this side of the plane?” her arms snugly formed into an intimidating gesture. The interrogation was going to be a long and difficult one.

“I saw it on mummy and daddy’s. Uhm. Ti-tick-ti-”

“Ticket?” she completed his sentence for him. A thankful smile and nod quickly given in return – he was seriously one good kid. He wouldn’t lie about such things.

“Aunty-nanny…” Kyungsoo softly mumbled. His eyes widened and alert on his ‘own’ work…

“Mhmm Kyungsoo…”

“When is my mummy and daddy coming back?” his attention shifted. The curiosity and sparkle of a four year old, with questions, brightly lightening up his irises…

“They’re on a plane flying back now...” her voice stable and genuine. It was easy talking to him. He was a smart child after all.

“o-oh, Okay…”

“What is it Kyungsoo?” she immediately caught the sadness in his tone of voice. It was subtle and silent, almost masked underneath the air conditioner, but she easily caught it.

“…Nothing”

“Mister Do Kyungsoo…” a sigh escaped his lips. It wasn’t going to be easy to escape this one.

“It’s just, I made it for mummy and daddy – but I don’t think they’ll be able to see it…” Her heart broke at that statement. She didn’t know why, but his voice sounded knowledgeable – if not, for only one second.

“What do you mean?”

“C-cake becomes water if you leave it outside…” his innocence shining, while she softly chuckled. “One second…” she disappeared upstairs; the nanny’s room was on the far side of the mansion. It would take a while and he knew it.

Click!

The flash momentarily burned his eyes while his forced smile remained. Aunty-nanny had returned with a Polaroid camera before they quickly took selcas of his masterpiece.

“Happy now?” she brushed the back of his head. He was sitting on the couch, waiting for the magic to appear. After all, the Polaroid that was ejected out of the camera was a pitch, monochrome black. She had told him to wait. And that was what he was currently doing. The first sightings of his pale skin renewed his curiosity – while he eagerly glared at the item before him. He finally nodded, satisfied.

“Good. It’s nap time now.” She carried him out of the room. Hands wrapped around his legs, while the other free hand supported his back – a temporary, makeshift seat. Once again, he nodded. A smile never leaving his face…

The week after – the curt and unbiased tone of a news reporter boomed throughout the mansion. She, knowingly, talked about the disappearance of plane ‘Jet Xpress’ – Flight America to Seoul, South Korea. Before finally uttering out “remains have been found dislodged in the Sea of Japan. Experts…”

Kyungsoo ignored the rest. He couldn’t comprehend what the lady was saying – but, he understood the underlying seriousness of the situation so his eyes remained focused on the television screen. His nanny, once again, asleep beside him…

A picture momentarily flashed onto the screen. The screenshot was the evident remains of a plane semi-drinking/ semi-forcibly being dragged down the ocean bed. The familiar red and yellow words ‘Jet Xpress’ imprinted on its tail. His memory ran like wildfire – the screenshot a springboard for his mind. Yet he sat there stunned. The first tears finding its way out and freely roaming down his cheeks.

His little legs now repeatedly bashed against the carpet floor, while his head bobbed up and down – the hair flying around, accordingly. He had to find it. He had seen that screenshot somewhere before. It was an evident déjà vu. It was the week before – if he remembered correctly. The day his parents were supposed to return back to Seoul. A door flung open – then the loud banging of cupboards and drawers being repeatedly opened and closed. The nanny woke up then.

“Kyungsoo-ah?”

She found him in his parents’ bedroom. A mess – tear stained eyes, hands repeatedly brushing against his cheeks to wipe them away. But a little black and white item on his lap had initially, caught her attention. She knew that item all too well. After all, she gave it to him.

It was a polaroid.

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Should i continue this? hrmm... if i do - it'll most likely be about the older version of Kyungsoo - whos now traumatized and afraid to cook. They'll most likely be exok -- but i dont know?

it'll be about how whenever he cooks - it ends up happening in real life? so his scared? I dont know lol...