The little photo studio stood at a corner of a side lane sandwiched by two rows of shophouses. Since it opened this morning, no one had been seen entering, which was odd, as the studio normally received a steady stream of customers. From young men and ladies dressed in the various styles of the day, to gray haired old folks, the studio never seemed to run out of people coming to have their photos taken. Usually, that is. Perhaps it was the bad weather that kept them away today. It had been raining the whole day, at least a drizzle when it was not a downpour, and dark clouds blanketed the sky, keeping the sun out of sight all day long. It was evening now, and it was drizzling. Passers by going either way along the lane were seen hurrying along, some with umbrellas, others in raincoats. Yet others having neither, simply broke into a sprint to get to the nearest shelter. Under the light of a nearby streetlamp, one could make out the sign, 'Hamid's Photo Studio,' unlit but in clear display on a large board hanging beside then entrance. Presently a tall, hefty man appeared and stood at the door. He was the owner, known to everyone as Mr. Hamid the photographer. Despite his almost forty years, Hamid still cut an impressive figure. He was good at his work, kind and friendly, and as such was very well liked by everyone who knew him.
The light rain was getting heavier nod and occasionally there was a gust of wind. The time was 7.30 in the evening. Hamid could be seen stepping out onto the pavement where some wooden planks stood stacked against a pillar. Those days, long before metal shutters came, a set of thick planks like these, made of hard wood, would be arranged edge to edge along wooden rails to secure the wide open front of shops when they closed for the day. Hamid was taking the planks and arranging them one by one over the glass panels fronting his studio, when he suddenly noticed a man standing right in front of him. The man seemed to have appeared abruptly, out of nowhere, to stand erect before Hamid and staring with eyes fixed at him. It was so unexpected that Hamid froze for a moment. It took him some time to collect his thoughts and only then did he realize it was just Ah Fook, the towkay, who ran a grocery store not far from his studio. There was another surprise. Ah Fook, who always went about in just an undershirt and loose, Chinese style boxer shorts, even on Chinese New Year's Day, was in a very smart outfit this time. He wore a dark blue suit, a pair of black shoes that shone under the streetlamp, and a black tie. The sudden transformation rendered Hamid speechless. For the first time ever, the towkay had actually dressed up. And he looked great too. Well, at least, if one ignored the unkempt mustache and beard, which had not changed. And, ... the towkay also seemed sad, indeed, mournful.
The light rain was getting heavier nod and occasionally there was a gust of wind. The time was 7.30 in the evening. Hamid could be seen stepping out onto the pavement where some wooden planks stood stacked against a pillar. Those days, long before metal shutters came, a set of thick planks like these, made of hard wood, would be arranged edge to edge along wooden rails to secure the wide open front of shops when they closed for the day. Hamid was taking the planks and arranging them one by one over the glass panels fronting his studio, when he suddenly noticed a man standing right in front of him. The man seemed to have appeared abruptly, out of nowhere, to stand erect before Hamid and staring with eyes fixed at him. It was so unexpected that Hamid froze for a moment. It took him some time to collect his thoughts and only then did he realize it was just Ah Fook, the towkay, who ran a grocery store not far from his studio. There was another surprise. Ah Fook, who always went about in just an undershirt and loose, Chinese style boxer shorts, even on Chinese New Year's Day, was in a very smart outfit this time. He wore a dark blue suit, a pair of black shoes that shone under the streetlamp, and a black tie. The sudden transformation rendered Hamid speechless. For the first time ever, the towkay had actually dressed up. And he looked great too. Well, at least, if one ignored the unkempt mustache and beard, which had not changed. And, ... the towkay also seemed sad, indeed, mournful.
'Hi there, towkay! Can I help you?' asked Hamid. The towkay did not reply but slowly stepped into the shop. Hamid followed him, though his initial astonishment had not worn away. 'You want your photo taken? I see you're looking great this evening,' Hamid went on. The old Chinese man halted and turned around to face him, but still said nothing. His eyes stared blankly at Hamid, and under the light shining from the center of the ceiling, the sorrow on his face was clear to see. His was the look of a sick man, his face so pale it was almost bloodless. Hamid found it disconcerting, facing the man now in front of him. He felt a mixture of curiosity, concern and apprehension. 'You want you picture taken? Please come with me,' said Hamid slowly as he led the way into an inner room, the actual studio where his photography work was done. Ah Fook, still silent, followed. At the curtained doorway, Hamid stopped to show the old man in. Ah Fook went in without saying a word and sat down on a stool in front of the large studio camera. That made it clear to Hamid that the strange behaving old man wanted his photo taken. But still he was not sure if he really should step inside and take the man's picture. he remained at the doorway for several moments, feeling quite uneasy, his feet hesitant.
In the meantime, Ah Fook got himself into position. He placed his right foot ahead of his left and pulled a side table that was always there ready for use, to his side, to rest his elbow. Hamid stood stone stiff studying him. His heart throbbed heavily and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. A queasy feeling dame over him as he looked at this pale, sickly, bloodless face staring at his camera. God, that fellow could easily pass for a corpse, he told himself. He steeled his nerves to tell his strange customer, 'OK, in a moment, please. Let me just get this thing ready.' The clock on the studio wall chimed eight, but Hamid was oblivious to it. Even as he adjusted the camera, his mind was working furiously seeking answers to the questions that had now emerged, like, what made Ah Fook come to have his photo taken now despite being obviously very, very ill? He went behind the camera, pulled a piece of black cloth over his head, peered into the lense and began adjusting its focus as he normally did. He froze. The lense had been adjusted and the view was in sharp focus, yet there was no Ah Fook, no towkay to see. The stool where he sat was there, the side table on which he leaned his elbow was there, both clear in the lense. but, where was the towkay? Hamid shut his eyes momentarily before opening them again, hoping it was all just his imagination. But, no, the studio props were still without their subject. He flipped the black cloth off his back and straightened up to look at the stool and the side table and had the shock of his life when he found the towkay seated there, eyes fixed blankly at the camera like before. Hamid went back behind the camera to bend and peer under the black cloth. And once again he could not believe his eyes, for the towkay was now missing from view.
Very much perturbed, Hamid said nonetheless, 'Are you ready, towkay? Keep still, please. I'm going to take the picture now,' and released the shutter. There was a click and the lense momentarily turned dark. A moment later, Hamid flipped the black cloth off his head, looked up, and found the towkay missing. The stool where he sat earlier was empty. Hamid dashed out of the room, knocking several chairs along the way. Utterly terrified, his mind confused, his body shivering, and his hair standing on end again., he burst out of the shop. He stood on the pavement and looked at Ah Fook's shop, but the old towkay was not around. 'That's very strange,' said Hamid to himself. 'Really strange. He went away just like that, in a flash. An old man like him surely can't be gone that fast, can he? Didn't even say what sort of photo he wanted or ask how much it would cost.' Hamid returned to his studio and went straight to the stool where the towkay had sat minutes earlier. He found a depression on the cushion, indicating that someone had indeed sat there minutes ago. But that discovery was no relief to Hamid and, instead, made the whole incident even more chilling. He was glad he did not touch the man as he normally did with his clients. He always had something to correct in their posture before snapping their pictures, but somehow, this time he forgot all about it.
Hamid left the studio again to pay a visit to Ah Fook's shop. He wanted to tell him, anyone there, what had just happened. As he neared the place, he heard people crying in the upper floor. Some Chinese men were talking in hushed tones when he stepped inside. Hamid asked them, 'Is Ah Fook around?' The men paused to turn and look at him. The oldest among them replied, 'Towkay, gone, dead. Evening, came down staircase, smart dress, fell, broke his head. Told wife wanted photo taken. Whole life no photo of himself. Everyday wife told him must take photo. So he dressed nice, wanted to go to studio. But he fell down, He only said,'Must have photo... must have photo.. until he died.' Hamid was shocked. 'What? Really? When did it happen?' 'Half past seven,' said the old Chinese gentlemen. In mounting horror, Hamid withdrew from the shop and hurried back to his studio and into his darkroom to develop the photo he had just taken. Twenty minutes later, as he studied the picture, he saw what he had dreadfully expected all this time. The stool and the side table stood forlornly. Of Ah Fook the towkay, there was not a trace.
In the meantime, Ah Fook got himself into position. He placed his right foot ahead of his left and pulled a side table that was always there ready for use, to his side, to rest his elbow. Hamid stood stone stiff studying him. His heart throbbed heavily and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. A queasy feeling dame over him as he looked at this pale, sickly, bloodless face staring at his camera. God, that fellow could easily pass for a corpse, he told himself. He steeled his nerves to tell his strange customer, 'OK, in a moment, please. Let me just get this thing ready.' The clock on the studio wall chimed eight, but Hamid was oblivious to it. Even as he adjusted the camera, his mind was working furiously seeking answers to the questions that had now emerged, like, what made Ah Fook come to have his photo taken now despite being obviously very, very ill? He went behind the camera, pulled a piece of black cloth over his head, peered into the lense and began adjusting its focus as he normally did. He froze. The lense had been adjusted and the view was in sharp focus, yet there was no Ah Fook, no towkay to see. The stool where he sat was there, the side table on which he leaned his elbow was there, both clear in the lense. but, where was the towkay? Hamid shut his eyes momentarily before opening them again, hoping it was all just his imagination. But, no, the studio props were still without their subject. He flipped the black cloth off his back and straightened up to look at the stool and the side table and had the shock of his life when he found the towkay seated there, eyes fixed blankly at the camera like before. Hamid went back behind the camera to bend and peer under the black cloth. And once again he could not believe his eyes, for the towkay was now missing from view.
Very much perturbed, Hamid said nonetheless, 'Are you ready, towkay? Keep still, please. I'm going to take the picture now,' and released the shutter. There was a click and the lense momentarily turned dark. A moment later, Hamid flipped the black cloth off his head, looked up, and found the towkay missing. The stool where he sat earlier was empty. Hamid dashed out of the room, knocking several chairs along the way. Utterly terrified, his mind confused, his body shivering, and his hair standing on end again., he burst out of the shop. He stood on the pavement and looked at Ah Fook's shop, but the old towkay was not around. 'That's very strange,' said Hamid to himself. 'Really strange. He went away just like that, in a flash. An old man like him surely can't be gone that fast, can he? Didn't even say what sort of photo he wanted or ask how much it would cost.' Hamid returned to his studio and went straight to the stool where the towkay had sat minutes earlier. He found a depression on the cushion, indicating that someone had indeed sat there minutes ago. But that discovery was no relief to Hamid and, instead, made the whole incident even more chilling. He was glad he did not touch the man as he normally did with his clients. He always had something to correct in their posture before snapping their pictures, but somehow, this time he forgot all about it.
Hamid left the studio again to pay a visit to Ah Fook's shop. He wanted to tell him, anyone there, what had just happened. As he neared the place, he heard people crying in the upper floor. Some Chinese men were talking in hushed tones when he stepped inside. Hamid asked them, 'Is Ah Fook around?' The men paused to turn and look at him. The oldest among them replied, 'Towkay, gone, dead. Evening, came down staircase, smart dress, fell, broke his head. Told wife wanted photo taken. Whole life no photo of himself. Everyday wife told him must take photo. So he dressed nice, wanted to go to studio. But he fell down, He only said,'Must have photo... must have photo.. until he died.' Hamid was shocked. 'What? Really? When did it happen?' 'Half past seven,' said the old Chinese gentlemen. In mounting horror, Hamid withdrew from the shop and hurried back to his studio and into his darkroom to develop the photo he had just taken. Twenty minutes later, as he studied the picture, he saw what he had dreadfully expected all this time. The stool and the side table stood forlornly. Of Ah Fook the towkay, there was not a trace.
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