女兒的第一篇小說（一）

這是女兒在十二歲開始寫的第一篇長篇小說，寫到十三歲也就停下了。問她為啥不接著寫下去，她說：當時的寫作衝動過去了，，不想再寫下去了。

我的理解是，當時正是她爸爸鬧家變最激烈之時， 作為女兒，她很想讓爸爸注意到她的想法，可發了瘋一般的爸爸根本不把女兒的存在放在眼裏。

那種無助，與憤慨，促使女兒寫下了這部以她自己為原型的長篇小說.

可以說，是寫作，讓女兒找到了平衡，與解脫。

在基督裏，我們一家得到了安息。

Resurrection Project

2003-

Resurrection

Chapter 1

I was a loner that no one regarded or even took noticed to when they passed me in the streets…”

Night time was always a noisy time for the city. It was complete bedlam with people rushing here and there, eager to get to their own destinations, oblivious to the strenuous activity all about them. Even as the skies faded to a deep obscurity of swollen stray clouds lazily slugging through the atmosphere; the dazzling city lights conquering the infinite heavens. America was at the brink of its power, with polished new cars that zoomed to and fro; tall skyscrapers that seemed to reach far beyond the usual lapis-lazuli sky and lastly, rumors of ‘silent magic films’ opening up in a place no one heard of called “Hollywood”. As for me, you couldn’t pick my face out of any random crowd.

Even if you did, I was quite a repulsion to behold. My eyes were baggy and crimson, my face was scarred with the ceaseless pain of immense heartache. Hiding my wretched head behind the collars of my long coat, I hurried along the sidewalk, having nothing to do with those close to my proximity. But I was not always this way. Something happened before that broke my heart and changed my views on life forever.

          I was a young lad, barely the age of 20. Having lost my father in World War II, I still pressed on, striving not to die as he did so many years ago. I was engaged to a lovely woman named Clara, and we were both to be married in June. I was happily taking an innocent stroll to the local jeweler shop to buy Clara a suitable ring for our wedding. After lingering around until hours end, I finally settled on a stunning one of a kind diamond-shaped ring; I paid the jeweler and set off.    

          That fateful night, I stood beside her on our balcony, both staring out into the endless majestic night sky studded with brilliantly shinning stars. Heart pounding drastically within my chest, I apprehensively took Clara’s hand in mine. She turned her head of golden curls to face me as I smiled tenderly. “Clara,” I started.

          But at that very moment, I stopped. For the look in her eyes was not what I expected. They glistened with unshed tears, but not of happiness. They pulled on my fragile heartstrings and I held her hand with bated breath, not knowing what to expect. “Fred,” she began. “I, I can’t see you anymore…”

          Those words. They still haunt me until no end even to this day, 10 years later. That terrible feeling of a wound that cannot be healed still lingers in my defunct heart ever since that day. “I wish to become famous,” she had said. “I want to pursue my dreams. I’m sorry Fred, but you’re just holding me back.” Holding her back! How could she do that to me when I had stood by her all those years, just waiting for the day when she would return my growing affections. My thoughts were rudely interrupted and I glanced about, wondering what had disturbed me.

          I looked down distastefully on a pitiful old man timidly tugging on the hem of my coat. His clothes filled my nostrils with such a terrible smell that made me feel faint as if he hadn’t washed for months and his face resembled that of a chimpanzee! “Please sir, have mercy and give me some money,” his voice was raspy and sere, his beady eyes staring pathetically into my own icy ebony ones. I snorted with disgust and wrenched my coat out of his grasp harshly. His fingers seceded from them, long and old.

          “Persuade another man. I am done,” and with that, I left that sidewalk and crossed over to the other side, away from the wrinkly old man. I could feel eyes boring into my back but I didn’t care a bit. I was a loner, someone no one even took a glance at. I was just another face in the crowd. Altruism was nothing but a distant stranger locked somewhere secluded from me. What good was life? We will all die eventually! Even if I do get singled out, someone will just break my heart again and I have endured enough pain. Virtue has not been poignant as to rueful people for I am one of them. I had been infatuated, but no more. I cannot handle this world. Perhaps one day, I shall find peace in the other.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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