Through the eyes of a kettle

The task was to write about a morning through the eyes of a kettle.




At 5.00 a.m. every morning, the maid would pick me up from the side table and carry me to the kitchen sink. She would take off my hat and hold me under the tap. Then she turns on the tap to let the cold water to gush through my hatless top and fill my body.

As I put up with the cold water slowly consuming my whole being, I would glance enviously at the pot sleeping cozily on the countertop.

"How nice and warm while I'm forced to be at service so early in the morning. I hate my life, I hate my life, I hate my life..." I'd complain to myself and keep on lamenting as my body shivers involuntarily.

I would only shut up once the maid heats me up above the stove for that is when I would find sweet relief.  Only after the heat has taken effect and made me feel warm and all cozy inside would I finally settle and just enjoy the feeling.

Too bad though, that feeling would not last long. Before I know it the water would boil over and make me feel unsettled again. That is when I would let off a loud shrill through my mouth so that someone would turn the stove off. If after a time, nobody has come to my rescue, I would shrill louder. Hoping to attract their attention, I would let out my scream in long continuous shrill.

But if my screaming is ignored, I would gurgle and spurt the hot water out through my mouth in protest. If still, no one takes notice, I would scream even louder as my hat makes clanking sound and rattles in anger. After a minute, my body would start shooting out splashes upon splashes of hot water through the rattling hat. Most times I would make such a big splash that I put out the flame all by myself.

That is when everybody would take notice and start rushing into the kitchen. Each of them would pretend to be the first one to come to my rescue as they scramble off against each other to take me off the stove and pour hot water into their cup of coffee. As if!

#expressitwrite