Tuesday, October 14, 2008

Grace & The Hot Iron

As part of their bedtime storytelling, James and Cameron asked me to tell them Stories of my Sister. I tried to remember as many as I could and they thoroughly enjoyed the stories.

One that I realise I haven't blogged but often tell people is when Grace forced me to touch a still hot iron. At that time, I was about 4-5 years old in our first house in Alor Star. Our maid had just finished ironing and left the iron on the ironing table. Grace asked me to touch it, right in the center. Knowing it was hot, I refused.

She then proceeded to trick me by placing her finger in front of the hot surface without touching it, but from where I was, it looked as though she was touching it. Curious, I took a step forward with my left index finger outstretched.

As I got nearer, I could feel the heat and was about to pull my hand back. In a flash, Grace grasped my hand and pressed my finger onto the iron. As I screamed in pain, she picked up a pillow nearby and stuffed my mouth to shut out the noise. My dad found out later and gave her a good caning.

I still bear the mark on my left index finger to this day.

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