I was cleaning out my folders today, and I found this piece I wrote a bit back. I fixed up a few mistakes, and added/subtracted it a bit to make it flow easier.
Still, in all honesty, I think this was one of my better pieces.
Plus points if you can read the chinese!
With a defiant click, he turned off the music. The words were in a different language, whispering to him, as if telling him that he needed to quickly grasp a hold of the thing that he was lacking. They were mocking him—those happy words were mocking him. The short haired boy scowled angrily, throwing himself on his bed, and covered his ears with his pillow. The song still seeped through the thick cotton, stubbornly refusing to be ignored.
So he couldn't love. What of it? He would never be able to accept a romantic love anyways. Being in love with a girl was unthinkable. Being in love with a man equally impossible. And, in order to keep up the disguise, 'he' absolutely had to remain alone.
She absolutely had to remain alone.
She had been the last child in a family of three girls. Her father had been thrown into anger at her birth, and her mother had grieved for nights and nights. She was not a son. There was no one left to inherit the noble tradition of the old family, because her mother was old and gray, and could not bear more children. She was cursed by birth to be loveless.
Those words again. They had interrupted his reverie. The boy closed his eyes and continued his reminiscing.
One day, she had heard her mother sobbing. Her father sat next to the woman, comforting her. They exchanged quiet murmurs, but the girl could imagine what they were saying. They had been saying it from her birth, after all.
“If only we had a son…”
So, her impulsive mind had acted like an impulsive mind would. Grabbing her scissors, she cut the neatly braided pigtails that the servants had tied in the morning. They fell to the ground, showering the nearby dirt with strands of the black silk. She could almost hear the strands crying as they were cut from her head, telling her not to let them go. Truly, the only thing she had been proud of then was her long, smooth hair. But, she would give it all to feel at least a taste of the warmth from her parents that she had yearned for for so many years. She would give it all.
Muddying her face like she saw the other neighborhood boys do, she took a set of clothing from one of the servant’s children, and put it on. Her six year old self looked just like a playful six year old boy.
“Mother, how do I look?” She pranced into the family commons, bedecked in her ‘new’ clothes and her roughly cut hair. Her mother gasped at first.
“Is that you, Tianming?” Her mother stared at her, as if unsure who the lively child was.
“Yes mother.” She had replied.
“You… you look wonderful.” Her mother broke into sobs yet again, hugging the child tightly in her arms. “You look just like your father.”
She had beamed, happy to finally make her mother proud to have a daughter like her. Even better, the worry lines on her father’s face lightened when he saw his daughter dressed like a son. She felt as if she was finally being accepted. No, not as if she was being accepted, as if he was. And he was happy to pretend to be the male heir to the family, for the sake of receiving the love that she could never experience. Never.
The words brought him back to the present. Standing, he looked in the mirror at himself. Tall, with a face faintly echoing of an erased girl, he looked every bit as male as the next. He was happy to be thought of as a man, if it meant that he was making his family proud.
So... so why was the song about being a maiden in love hurt his chest so much?
Still, in all honesty, I think this was one of my better pieces.
Plus points if you can read the chinese!
天天都需要你爱
我的心思由你猜
我爱你
我就是要你让我每天都精彩
我的心思由你猜
我爱你
我就是要你让我每天都精彩
With a defiant click, he turned off the music. The words were in a different language, whispering to him, as if telling him that he needed to quickly grasp a hold of the thing that he was lacking. They were mocking him—those happy words were mocking him. The short haired boy scowled angrily, throwing himself on his bed, and covered his ears with his pillow. The song still seeped through the thick cotton, stubbornly refusing to be ignored.
So he couldn't love. What of it? He would never be able to accept a romantic love anyways. Being in love with a girl was unthinkable. Being in love with a man equally impossible. And, in order to keep up the disguise, 'he' absolutely had to remain alone.
She absolutely had to remain alone.
She had been the last child in a family of three girls. Her father had been thrown into anger at her birth, and her mother had grieved for nights and nights. She was not a son. There was no one left to inherit the noble tradition of the old family, because her mother was old and gray, and could not bear more children. She was cursed by birth to be loveless.
我就是要你让我每天都精彩
Those words again. They had interrupted his reverie. The boy closed his eyes and continued his reminiscing.
One day, she had heard her mother sobbing. Her father sat next to the woman, comforting her. They exchanged quiet murmurs, but the girl could imagine what they were saying. They had been saying it from her birth, after all.
“If only we had a son…”
So, her impulsive mind had acted like an impulsive mind would. Grabbing her scissors, she cut the neatly braided pigtails that the servants had tied in the morning. They fell to the ground, showering the nearby dirt with strands of the black silk. She could almost hear the strands crying as they were cut from her head, telling her not to let them go. Truly, the only thing she had been proud of then was her long, smooth hair. But, she would give it all to feel at least a taste of the warmth from her parents that she had yearned for for so many years. She would give it all.
Muddying her face like she saw the other neighborhood boys do, she took a set of clothing from one of the servant’s children, and put it on. Her six year old self looked just like a playful six year old boy.
“Mother, how do I look?” She pranced into the family commons, bedecked in her ‘new’ clothes and her roughly cut hair. Her mother gasped at first.
“Is that you, Tianming?” Her mother stared at her, as if unsure who the lively child was.
“Yes mother.” She had replied.
“You… you look wonderful.” Her mother broke into sobs yet again, hugging the child tightly in her arms. “You look just like your father.”
She had beamed, happy to finally make her mother proud to have a daughter like her. Even better, the worry lines on her father’s face lightened when he saw his daughter dressed like a son. She felt as if she was finally being accepted. No, not as if she was being accepted, as if he was. And he was happy to pretend to be the male heir to the family, for the sake of receiving the love that she could never experience. Never.
天天都需要你爱
The words brought him back to the present. Standing, he looked in the mirror at himself. Tall, with a face faintly echoing of an erased girl, he looked every bit as male as the next. He was happy to be thought of as a man, if it meant that he was making his family proud.
So... so why was the song about being a maiden in love hurt his chest so much?